


You're On my Road (Walking Me Home)

by captainkatieb



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Family, First Kiss, First Time, Grief/Mourning, Hollywood, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 22:43:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 53,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7011202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainkatieb/pseuds/captainkatieb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I don’t think there’s one set way to do it. I know there will be a day when you wake up, and think ‘today is okay’. Then it becomes ‘today was good’. And you continue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're On my Road (Walking Me Home)

**Author's Note:**

> This work would not exist without a few key people. [blackhawkinbudapest](http://archiveofourown.org/users/blackhawkinbudapest/pseuds/blackhawkinbudapest) for encouraging me to write in the first place, [semeperama](http://archiveofourown.org/users/semperama/pseuds/semperama) for her tireless beta work, and [AnotherFraud](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherFraud/pseuds/AnotherFraud) for her cheerleading every step of the way.

**You’re On My Road Walking Me Home**

_“You drift between earth and death_  
_which seem, finally,_  
_strangely alike.”  
__-_ **Louise Gluck** from ‘Persephone the Wanderer’

* * *

 

He feels numb for a while, after he hangs up the phone. The silence is oppressing, with just the drip of the kitchen tap to break up the noise. Dimly he realises that at some stage during the call he ended up on the floor, back pressed against the cupboard and dishtowel still clutched in his hands. Damp, with a faint smell of onions.

He doesn’t remember how long he sits on the floor. It gets darker. The only source of light becomes a dim glow from the street lamps outside the window.

“The shadows of the fabulous, broken into handfuls.” It comes out as a sigh, broken and dejected.

He stands up then, rubbing a hand over the screen of his phone. He puts it down and turns back to the dishes. The water has gone cold, but he doesn’t notice. It’s not until he catches the edge of a knife on his thumb that he realises he’s been going on autopilot. The sharp bite of pain and gush of blood brings him back to reality with a hiss.

“Fuck. Fucking fuck, fuck. God damn it-,” he breaks off.

He turns around and puts his back against the counter and grabs a fistful of hair, tugging sharply while drawing in short, shallow breaths. He laughs at the sheer gall of the world. He laughs and cries. And then sobs, hunching over himself and wrapping his arms around his stomach. That’s where the hole sits. Where he feels it most in that moment. Like there’s no bottom anymore and there’s nothing to stop him from falling. He thinks that maybe it’s worth it. To just fall. To hell with everything. How can anything be worth it now?

It wasn’t meant to be this way.

* * *

 

**After Filming, 2009.**

“Chris.”

Silence is all that greeted him. Zach stands at the foot of Chris’ bed, watching to see if the lump under the covers was actually alive. He saw the lump gently rise before falling down again, and heard the soft sounds of Chris’ breathing. Not dead then. It’s early, a soft pink glow filtering through the curtains.

“Chrriissss.”

Zach tried again. A muffled groan is all that reached his ears. He stepped forward, coming to rest beside where he figured the head was.

“Pine.”

There was another groan, more annoyed this time. If Zach didn’t know better, he would have thought that there was a bear taking up the spot where his friend was supposed to be. Zach folded his arms and bit his lip, looking down at the picture Chris made as he tried not to laugh. He was completely covered by the blanket, the edge of one elbow sticking out from where the covers were pulled back slightly. It made an adorable picture and even though it was one Zach had seen before, he still smiled softly. He liked observing Chris when he wasn’t aware. He also knew it would probably be considered creepy to most but well, it wasn’t the weirdest thing they had done.

“Christopher Whitelaw Pine.”

“What the fuck do you want?” Chris asked, voice thick with sleep.

Chris’ head appeared from under the blanket, hair dishevelled, with crease lines marking his face. His eyes were screwed closed, a thin veil of exhaustion present.

Zach grinned, way too pleased with the situation. Catching a sleeping Pine unaware was one of his favourite activities, closely followed by provoking a sleeping Pine, and waking a sleeping Pine. He knew he’d be bitched at for the rest of the day, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Zach climbed onto Chris’ bed; deliberately making sure he put as much weight on Chris as possible.

“Ow, what the-,” Chris started, swatting at Zach before he grabbed a pillow and chucked it in Zach’s direction. It missed by a wide margin. “I went to bed like, three hours ago after filming all fucking night. You have better have a damn good reason as to why you’re breaking in and assaulting me at,” he paused, glancing up to look at the clock, “shit, five freaking am.”

“You’re always so delightful in the morning,” Zach said as he settled with his back to the headboard. He picked up the book that was about to fall off the bed, thumbing through it. Huh, Plath. There were a few poems earmarked throughout.

Chris merely raised his hand and gave Zach the finger.

“You love me, really.”

“I’m revoking spare key privileges.”

“And what, have nobody to call when you’ve lost your keys at some bar downtown and you realised you no longer live in an apartment you can just break into? Yeah good luck with that.”

Zach reached out to run his hand through Chris’ hair. His fingertips brushed a few loose strands before he realised what he was doing and he jerked it back. Shit. He’d almost broken a rule. One of the few he had for his own self-preservation. Smack bang at the top of the list was ‘do not run hands through Chris’ hair’. While friends hug and stand close and grip each other’s shoulders, they do not run hands through each other’s hair without invitation. He turned it into a poke, jabbing at Chris’ shoulder.

“Wake up.”

Chris swatted at Zach’s hand again. “M’am awake”

“Get up.”

“Fuck off”

“Make me.”

Chris peeled open an eye at that.

“Zachary, when did you become such a pain in my ass?”

“When you decided I was apparently interesting enough to keep around,” Zach replied.

Chris sighed and rolled over onto his back.

"Fine. Give me, like, thirty minutes to actually resemble a living human.”

“Done. I’ll be waiting.”

“There better be coffee.”

“It’s like you don’t know me. There’s always coffee." 

\--

True to his word, Zach had coffee ready and waiting for when Chris finally emerged from the bedroom in his customary white tee and faded blue jeans. Zach slid the mug across the kitchen counter where he was sitting, plate of toast next to him. Chris took the mug and brought it up to his nose, inhaling deeply. A look of pure bliss crossed over his face. Zach picked up a toast triangle, and took a bite. He swallowed before speaking.

“You need better coffee.”

Chris glared, cradling his cup to his chest protectively.

“You. You come in here, eat my toast, insult my coffee.” Chris sat down opposite Zach and shook his head, taking a mouthful. “Don’t listen to the mean man. You’re perfect just how you are.”

Zach snorted. “Oh dear lord.”

“What?”

“I’m starting to believe Zoe. Your standards are slipping Pine. How am I associating with you?”

“Oh come on,” Chris protested, “Zoe was being completely unreasonable. You all sided with her without letting me get a word in!”

Sitting up straighter and holding up his own mug like it was a wine glass, Zach’s voice took on a higher tone in a pretty abysmal attempt at Zoe’s.

“Misogyny and a sexist approach to relationships will get you nowhere, Christopher. You should have higher standards for yourself.”

Zach was met with a tea towel being flung in his face.

Laughing, he tossed it down and continued in his own voice. “That was an epic dressing down, Pine.”

Chris sighed, face only slightly pink before he stalked over to the fridge and pulled the door open. He emerged with a pot of yoghurt and went off in search of a spoon. “You all totally missed the point. Why have standards with someone you fully intend to never see again?” He sat down, and placed the mug on the counter.

Zach finished off his toast, brushing the crumbs from his fingers before he rested his chin on one hand and looked sideways up at Chris. He remembered the conversation from that weekend.

_They had all caught up at a wine bar Zoe had wanted to visit for a while. It became a mini-Trek reunion with Karl, John, Anton, and Simon; even JJ dropped past briefly before quickly leaving them to it. One too many wines later, they were all well and truly beyond the sober phase and it was morphing into the too honest introspective reflections on their own lives egged on by John and Karl smugly boasting about married life._

_“You cannot honestly say that you’ve never been curious about someone else since marriage, ever?” asked Chris._

_Karl shook his head. “Nope. Never. It’s different.”_

_John nodded in agreement. “You can still objectively go, yes, that is an attractive person, but you know I have never wanted to sleep with someone other than Kerri. There is something to be said for a deep level emotional connection that surpasses casual attachments.”_

_Chris scoffed, incredulous. “Never? I seriously think that’s a big ask. On a base level of sexual pleasure and satisfaction, emotional connection doesn’t come into it.”_

_Zoe piped up then. “You are basically confirming every sexist and misogynistic viewpoint of the average American male, Pine. And here I was, thinking you at least had standards.”_

_Chris choked on his drink, sputtering. “Hey, now wait, I never said-”_

_“I think that’s exactly what you’re saying, Pine,” Zach commented. He’d leaned back in his chair, with his wine glass clutched delicately in his hand. He used it for emphasis on his next point. “That bar we were at, Trek wrap party. You went home with the brunette because she_ smiled _at you.”_

_“Oh yeah. Nice figure. Though we never made it home if you’re being technical…”_

_“You’re digging your own grave, Christopher.”_

Zach dragged himself back to the present, realising Chris had continued speaking. He was waving his spoon around and Zach was relieved there was an entire bench separating them. Chris had the unfortunate habit of letting go unexpectedly and Zach has discovered that if you were within arm's reach, you generally wore whatever utensil is in hand along with whatever was on it.

“It’s not about standards, and not having them, it’s about convenience and ease and bypassing a whole lot of complications and conversations. It’s easy, there’s no expectations. Mutually satisfying sex between two consenting adults to achieve a desired outcome. There is simple elegance in that.”

“When you’re forty and are a miserable bastard yelling at the world, please reference this conversation.”

“You’re no better. It just doesn’t get commented on as much because it’s apparently okay when you’re both guys.”

Chris can be completely insensitive at times. “Oh yeah, it’s so much better except for that small thing: knowing that you’ll be personally persecuted and won’t have a career if it comes out. And surprisingly, a committed relationship is one way for that to happen.”

Zach rolled his eyes before standing up and fetching more coffee.

“Would it be that big of a deal if it was? All out there? Seriously, there’s enough people in the industry who would have your back.” Chris licked a bit of yogurt from the side of his mouth, looking at Zach with a serious expression on his face.

They had spoken about this before. Chris had never treated Zach differently when he found out. They had been friends for too long for that. It had come up in conversation here and there, off hand comments between friends. They were always careful in public, Chris respected Zach to know it was his decision to make. It seemed so easy when Chris put it that way, that he could just come out with zero repercussions when he was finally at a spot here he was considered for lead roles. Reality wasn’t that simple. It had never been raised, but there was one distinct conversation with the executives of Trek that there would be no negative press to mar the release. Chris didn’t know about that conversation. If he did, Zach had a feeling he wouldn’t let it go.

Zach didn’t meet Chris’ eyes and avoided answering the question. “As you said, easier when there’s no strings attached.”

Zach turned away, heading back to Chris’ living room where he dumped his keys from earlier. He called back to Chris. “Get your jacket, we’re going out. I need dishware.”

* * *

  **Now**

Noah finds him then. His wet nose brushes against his foot, before it digs into Chris’ side. Noah whines, a low sound, and looks up at Chris with his big, dark eyes. It’s like Noah knows something is wrong. He lies down next to Chris and rests his snout on Chris’ lap. He brings his hand up to scratch Noah’s ear. 

“Hey buddy.”

They sit like that for a while before Noah whines again and licks at Chris’ hand.

“You’re hungry, yeah? I’ll get you something. In a minute. I just…” he trails off.

Noah lowers his head again as Chris’ head thunks back against the cupboard. He scrubs at his face before standing, wordlessly going to the cupboard to fill Noah’s bowl. He wishes he could be like Noah in that moment, ignorant of what has happened.

He doesn’t quite remember what happens after that. Somewhere along the way, he finishes washing the dishes and puts them away, and loads the dirty laundry into the machine. He ends up on the couch, curled up into one end, glasses slipping off his face as he falls asleep. A pounding on the door wakes Chris up a few hours later. Swearing, Chris jumps up, managing to trip over his own feet, before falling down hard.

“Motherfucker, ow!” He jumps up and stumbles to the door. “Where the fuck are your keys, Zach, do you have any idea what time it is?”

Chris yanks open the door, jamming his glasses back on his face. Katie is standing there, a pensive look on her face.

“Chris?”

He works it out then. It’s not Zach. Zach isn’t at the door. Zach won’t ever be at the door. His hand falls from the doorframe, as his face flicks between confusion, realisation, devastation and blankness.

“Chris?” Katie asks again, more urgent this time.

Chris looks up, runs his hand through his hair again before stepping back and letting Katie in. He goes back to the couch, dropping back down into the same spot. Katie walks over before hesitating and crouching down in front of him.

“Do you want to talk?”

Chris shakes his head and curls up more, determined to deny that this is his current reality. Katie stands, taking off her coat and placing it with her bag on the coffee table.

“Have you eaten at all? Noah?”

“He’s in the laundry. I fed him.”

He hopes she will pass over the fact he hasn’t eaten since lunch. The thought of food makes his stomach turn. Katie moves off then, heading in the direction of the laundry to check on Noah. Chris hears her softly saying hello, hears other noises that eventually all blur into the background.

There’s a clink of a plate being set on the coffee table draws Chris back to the room. Katie’s made toast. She’s even cut it into squares like they did when they were kids.

“You have to eat Chris. I know you don’t feel like it right now, but you have to have something.” Chris doesn’t respond, just looks up at her blankly. “Half of it. You eat half of it and I’ll let you be.”

“Will you leave?”

Katie hesitates before answering.

“Maybe. You shouldn’t be alone right now.” She says, sitting down on the other end of the couch.

“I’m fine.”

She makes a noncommittal sound, clearly not believing him.

He picks up the plate of toast, biting into it and chewing before swallowing. He doesn’t taste any of it. He gets through both pieces, putting the plate down before curling back up. Katie picks up the comforter from the couch and drapes it over him before picking up the plate and disappearing.

* * *

**Press Tour, 2009.**

“You asshole. You complete and utter asshole.”

“What, just because some of us are eloquent without an English major.”

“Fuck off, Quinto.”

“Oh, so this is what it is like to make the ‘Impressive Chris Pine’ grump,” Zach said with obvious delight.

They were sitting in the hotel bar, well towards being happily drunk after days worth of endless press interviews. They had one more premier tomorrow night to get through, then it was done. The weeks of endless hotel rooms and changing locations would finally cease and Zach could happily crash in his own bed and never leave again. He knew it was a small sacrifice, but he was exhausted, they were all exhausted, and it was a challenge to put a smile on each day and pretend like he hadn’t answered the same question five times already within a twenty four hour period.

Zoe and Karl were with them, engrossed in their own conversation, while John and Simon had planned to join them later. Their current debate centered around the fact Chris couldn’t let it go that Zach was crowned winner of the latest vocab war. It emerged out of a need to make the repetitive days more interesting. To say they were both fiercely competitive was an understatement.

Chris shifted in his chair, placing his glass down to free up his hands. He leaned towards Zach, gesturing. “I still hold that I won. The last interviewer agreed with me.”

“That interviewer wanted to sleep with you and she wasn’t subtle about it.”

“Psh, hardly. The interviewer was laying it on. It’s not my fault that they thought more highly of me then of you!”

Zach scoffed. “Like anyone would pick you as the superior being when I’m in the room.”

“Asshole.”

Chris shook his head, a grin firmly in place. Zach liked this grin; he knew it was the grin Chris reserved for when he was comfortable and surrounded by people he was close with. It was light and open and had none of the fake pull around his eyes. Zach, when it was late at night and he was being completely honest with himself, would think about how often it showed when he was around. He knew it was a ridiculous fantasy born of romantic high school imaginings. Chris grinned for more people than just him. Zach looked down, hoping Chris didn’t catch the expression. He forced himself to relax and looked up at Chris from under his glasses.

“Official victor, Pine. I’ll expect your declaration of surrender in the morning.”

“Whatever, man. You want another or you done?” Chris asked, nodding towards Zach’s empty glass.

“Uhh, I’m good for a bit.”

Chris shrugged, getting up and approaching the bar. Zoe caught Zach’s eye, a look of sympathy on her face. She was too perceptive for her own good. Of all their fellow cast, she was the only one who had worked out that he wished the flirting between them was more than flirting. That had been one interesting conversation when she cornered him in his trailer. ‘Strangulation Day’ had taken on a new meaning after that. Zach had discovered that Zoe had a mouth on her that was way less demure than her appearance led him to believe. He could still hear it. _You know, it’s surprising how similar fighting is to fucking, and you seem to be one step away from committing Pon Farr. And I know you know what that means. You’ve spoken to Lenoard._ He kept up the flirting between them – it was expected now and would have caused more questions than he was prepared to answer if he stopped – but he was careful not to wish it was anything else. To an outside observer, there were probably moments where people questioned how close they were. Interviewers had asked it. God, JJ had asked if there was anything. Chris was straight, perfectly content to live life to the max and make eyes at the petite waiter across the room while he leaned closer than what could be considered purely platonic.

He watched as Chris made it to the bar, sliding up next to the waiter he had been looking at before. They were chatting – flirting, his brain helpfully provided – Chris’ hand coming out to hold her shoulder lightly.

Zach turned away deliberately, trying to catch up on the thread of Zoe and Karl’s conversation. He was acutely aware of the moment Chris sat back down, a new glass in his hand and a smug look on his face. He seamlessly joined back into the conversation. Zach envied his easy conversation skills, the way it all appeared effortless. Zach was pensive for most of the evening after that. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the glances Chris was giving him every so often. He sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get back to the carefree feeling he had earlier in the evening.

He stood up, drawing the attention of everyone at the small cluster of tables. “Hey, look guys, I’m done for the night. I’ll see you in the morning.” He didn’t get far before he heard his name being called.

“Zach, oi Zach, wait up!” Chris called. He jogged up the corridor behind Zach, throwing his hand between the elevator doors to stop them from closing.

Zach raised an eyebrow.

Chris shrugged. “We have an early morning.”

“I am yet to see you leave an evening like that early.”

“You haven’t been paying attention then.”

They stood in silence as the lift took them up to their floor. They made their way down the corridor and stopped outside Zach’s door. Chris leaned against the wall next to his door. His arms were crossed and a soft smile was on his face.

“What now, Zachary? You honestly don’t think I’ll believe you’re planning to go straight to bed?” Chris asked.

“Are you not sick of me yet?” Zach retorted. “You don’t seem to be able to pick up on any social cue. I want to be alone.” Zach was tired and didn’t want to deal with an overly perceptive Chris at the moment.

“That’s the best you got? Weak, Quinto.”

Chris leaned over and grabbed the key out of Zach’s hand. He was into the room before Zach realised what happened. Zach ran a hand through his hair before sighing and walking in. He found Chris already comfortable on his couch, feet up on the coffee table and playing with remote. Zach turned to close the door, taking a moment before he joined Chris on the couch.

“I’m too used to living in your pocket. It’s going to be strange being back in LA.”

“We’ll see each other. After all, we share the same trainer.”

“You know as well as I do how that’s a bullshit story told to the media to make them not question how we know each other.

“Yeah, one you can never keep right. No thanks to my efforts.” Zach kicked his shoes off, slouching down so the back of his neck was resting on the back of the couch.

“I didn’t mean to mention the Corps. I miss the Grimy days. It was simpler back then.”

“I don’t. I like being paid, thank you.”

“You and me both.”

Chris sighed. “I mean it though. I’m going to miss you.” He tossed the remote to Zach, a repeat of an old soap show playing softly in the background. “Why did you leave?”

“What?”

“Tonight. Why’d you leave? John and Simon wanted to go out. They’d found this karaoke bar. Was meant to be like, the last night with the crew. JJ was actually going to come. Eric too.”

Zach looked up at the ceiling, reached a hand up and ran it through his hair.

“Tired. I’m just tired, okay?”

“Uh-huh. Yeah and you’re not doing your anxious thing of running your hand through your hair. Quinto 101.”

“I’m not a fucking book, Chris.” Zach snapped. Even if Chris did have a point about the hair thing, he wasn’t about to admit it.

“’Course not. But something’s up and you’re off sulking and being all high and mighty.” Chris leaned his head back and towards Zach, staring up at him. “Spill.”

“Look, I just don’t want to go out. We have the premier tomorrow, then we fly home, and I’ve actually got work I need to catch up with. I don’t need a minder.”

“Leave it for a night. Come out.”

“No.”

“Aww, Zachary. Please?”

“Why do you care? Seriously, you can go hang with practically whomever you want. Seriously, I doubt there is anyone who’d say no to Captain Kirk.” Zach stood up and paced across the room. He deliberated for a moment, before rummaging through one of his bags to find his laptop.

“Why do I care? Zach, we’re friends. In Tokyo. One of the cities that never sleep. I’m choosing your company because despite you being a miserable bastard currently, it’s more fun when you’re there.”

Zach’s heart had skipped at beat at hearing Chris’ words. Nope. He wasn’t even allowed to entertain the possibility. “Go have fun with someone else.”

“Fine. Maybe I will.”

“Good. The blonde from the bar didn’t seem like she’d be too much of a challenge.”

“Fuck you Zach. Is that what this is really about? You’re upset because I so much as looked at someone?” Chris sounded hurt. “God Zach. I’m single, about to head home where I’ll be under so much more scrutiny, and you’re getting on your high horse ‘cause I’m planning to enjoy myself?” Chris tone had morphed somewhat, an edge to it now.

Zach turned around, laptop clutched in his hands. This was entering dangerous territory.

“I don’t care who you sleep with, Pine.”

Chris scoffed. “Could have fooled me. Without fail, every time I leave anywhere with someone, I know you’re watching.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Tell me then, if what I’ve said doesn’t have an ounce of truth to it. You swear to me now that you’re not secretly so invested in this, then I’ll drop it.”

Chris stared at Zach, catching his eyes with a determined look. Zach couldn’t do it. He couldn’t lie. He looked away.

Chris made a triumphant sound. Zach couldn’t look up. He couldn’t move. It wasn’t meant to come out like this.

“Zach. You’re my friend. I’m not going to treat you any differently. People get crushes on friends all the time. God, you should have seen me around Anne. It happens. It’s bound to happen in an environment like this.”

“Please stop talking. Like right now. If you could go and leave me to die in shame that would be great. Having your totally straight co-star discover you’ve had a crush-” God, it sounded so high school, “-on them is really not how I wanted tonight to go.”

Zach could feel his face heating up. This hadn’t come up in any of the situations he had considered. The emotional release of Chris admitting he liked Zach in the same way, a dramatic declaration, Chris never knowing. Yeah, this was easily worse than anything Zach’s brain could have imagined.

“Fine. I’ll leave. But you should probably know, I’m not as 100% straight as everyone believes.”

Zach dropped his laptop. It cut through the silence that had met Chris’ last comment. He couldn’t process what Chris was intending with that comment.

“If…if you’re fucking with me Pine, I swear to god.”

“Would I fuck around about something like this?” Chris paused. “Wait, don’t answer that. I know as well as the next person what my reputation is. For once, just believe that I’m genuine.”

“Why? Why now?”

Chris shrugged. “I’ll see you around, Zachary.” Chris stopped next to Zach and bent down to pick up his laptop. He handed it to Zach before smiling and heading out of the room.

Zach couldn’t process it. He stood there for a long time after Chris had left, wondering what he was going to do. Two days. He had to get through two days and then he’d worry about it.

* * *

 

**Three Days On.**

Chris jerks awake as his alarm goes off. He reaches blindly, trying to find his phone to switch off the noise, arms flailing across the bed. He whacks his hand against the bedside table before finding it and turns it of. He lies there in the darkness for a while, wishing he could go back to sleep. He doesn’t have that luxury. Katie is coming to collect him in a few hours before they head to Joe’s place.

It’s been three days and Chris wishes he could forget. It’s been three days and he refuses to see anyone. Refuses to take phone calls and refuses to leave his house. He only knows about the meeting today as Joe came over yesterday and wouldn’t leave until he was let inside. They had sat on Chris’ couch without speaking for hours, each dealing with the pain in their own way.

Chris swings his feet out of the bed and rests them on the floor, gathering strength to stand up. He doesn’t look at the empty spot next to him. Doesn’t acknowledge that there’s normally someone there to wake up next to him in the morning. He crosses the room to the bathroom and stands in front of the sink for a moment before bringing his eyes up to look at himself in the mirror.

He’s wearing one of Zach’s shirts, too big and worn with holes. It’s the only piece of Zach’s clothing Chris has touched. He can’t bring himself to go through the rest yet. Zach hates anyone going through his clothes. He’ll get them out of order and Zach isn’t here to put them back into order. His face looks haggard and he can’t lie to himself; it looks like he hasn’t slept in three days even though that is all he has done. He knows he’s only going through the motions, but just can’t bring himself to care. What’s the point of looking after yourself when you just wish you could end it all?

After his shower he selects a shirt at random, not looking at what he grabs, wanting to spend the least amount time in the bedroom as possible. He curses himself for the fact the guest room is full of their spare boxes that they were organising. He’d prefer to sleep there if he could. Anything to not remember.

But he can’t ignore it today. They are making arrangements today and he needs to be there.

There are messages on his phone when he gets around to checking it. He has to find it first. It takes a while and he eventually locates it on the floor under the edge of his sofa. It must have fallen there the other night. There are missed calls and too many messages. He only checks the ones from his agent and his publicist.

Susan managed to get him two weeks off from set, but Focus weren’t able to do anything more then that. Kevin has the family statement ready to go that is being released today. He wants to know if Chris wants to add anything or if he’s happy with what they’ve put together. He also reminds him that the paps would be thick on the ground today. They got word that something had happened, and while they didn’t know exactly what, the rumour mill was doing its usual work and speculation was ripe. If only it was a break-up. Chris actually wishes it were that. Would sell his soul in an instant if it meant a different reality.

Too soon, he gets a notification on the intercom that the gate has been opened with his codes. He meets Katie outside the door, wanting to get it over with as soon as possible.

“Hey, Katie,” he says, surprised when his voice sounds something like his regular tone.

“Hey,” she says, softly. “You ready to do this?”

Chris smiles weakly. “Not really. I haven’t spoken to Margo. I couldn’t take her call yesterday.”

“She’ll understand. She’s hurting too.”

Chris merely nods. Fuck. He really isn’t ready to face Margo. She’d lost her husband. She wasn’t meant to loose her son too. No parent should have to bury their child. Chris has lost part of himself. He doesn’t know if he would be able to comfort someone who had lost even more.

Chris hates coming into LA proper, hates it even more now that he doesn’t have Zach’s snark narrating the journey next to him.

_You such a princess, Pine. You got into the industry knowing full well what would happen. God, you can be such a dick about it._

The Zach in his head sounds too real. That exact tone of sarcastic exasperation blended with just enough affection. Chris scrubs at his eyes, refusing to break down over a hallucination.

“It’s okay to cry, you know. It’s normal.”

“I can’t just cry Katie. I can’t just break down. I don’t have the privilege of being able to do that,” he says. God how he wishes he could just fuck off to god knows where and that he wasn’t in the middle of an intensive project.

They are meeting at Before the Door’s production office, since it’s easy for everyone to get to and has the added bonus of being set up for meetings. Chris doesn’t yet know if being in a room that echoes everything about Zach is a good idea or if it would have been easier meeting in a room devoid of everything. It’s a comfort and a curse.

Zach’s production partners Corey and Neal are already there, accompanied by Margo and Joe, when Chris arrives. He steps awkwardly through the door, the murmured conversation drawing to a pause as the door swings shut behind Katie. She moves off to sit down next to Joe and Greg, Chris’ assistant. Margo looks frail, like the wind just had to blow through for her to topple over.

She stands, approaching Chris where he is still frozen to the spot. His mind is blank. It’s completely and utterly blank. The small amount of confidence he had earlier has vanished. He doesn’t know what to do, vaguely registers that he’s panicking. Before he can think further, Margo is there and wrapping her arms around him. Chris stiffens. He forces himself to take a deep breath before wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

It’s the first touch of human contact he’s let himself have since he found out. He feels guilty for relishing in the closeness of Margo, guilty for finding comfort.

“We can do this,” she whispers into his hair. “We _can_ do this. Together. You’re not alone, Christopher.”

“I-,” his voice breaks. He pauses before continuing. “I feel so alone, Margs. So alone. How can I possibly do this, when everything I do reminds me of him?” He doesn’t let go. 

“Because we must. You and Joe are all I have. We have to make it worth something.” 

\--

Warrick and Kellier Public Relations  
www.warrickkellierpr.com

**FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE**

On Friday 23rd July the vehicle Zachary John Quinto-Pine was travelling in was involved in a two-vehicle collision in Manhattan, New York. Quinto-Pine was pronounced dead at the scene. NYPD are still investigating and the driver of a second vehicle is held for questioning. Quinto-Pine was returning to his apartment in New York after meeting with the production team of a new revival production of The Laramie Project.

Christopher Whitelaw Quinto-Pine and his immediately family ask for privacy at this difficult time. Zachary Quinto-Pine was a prominent member of the Hollywood film community, and his loss will be felt by many, none the least by Christopher. His achievements in his career and life stand as a reminder of what we have lost.

Christopher Quinto-Pine is taking a temporary break from filming _A Thousand Words_ and Focus Features is asking for consideration to be taken in media reports. Before the Door are not making a comment at this time.

Any and all media enquiries are to be directed to Kevin Parker. 

\-- 

The memorial service is held on Thursday afternoon. Chris barely registers it occurring. The private funeral service earlier in the day is still playing on his mind. He realises that he is spacing out, that he’s retreating into himself. He rationally knows that this is probably not the best way to handle it, but between everyone constantly offering their support and the looks from Katie and his family, he can’t deal with feeling right now. He’s had Kevin come through the house and remove all sources of alcohol, even the hidden stash that they had saved up for special occasions. After the first few days, he knew he couldn’t make the pain go away.

He registers Kristen sitting down next to him, a glass of wine in her hand. They are back at Joe’s after the service. Just a few close friends and family. Most of the current Trek cast is there. JJ as well. Benedict has flown in from London. Zoe joins them on his other side.

“He would have liked it,” Zoe says softly, sipping on her glass.

Kristen snorts on the other side. “He would have thought it was a whole lot of shit, acted like he was above it all, but be secretly pleased after all.”

Chris smiles. “He would have. He was always like that.” It feels nice to smile for a change. He is exhausted. He is done fighting the memories.

Zoe chuckles, nodding in agreement. “This is true. First time I met him was at Trek auditions. He was all polite and formal, then the moment I found out I got the job, I had a text from him that basically was welcome to the madhouse, leave your politeness at the door.”

“He never pretended to be anyone else. Always unashamedly Zach,” Kirsten says. “You should have seen him chew out the baristas who made his coffee ‘wrong’.”

“Oh I did,” Chris replies. “It was always a glorious thing to witness. It was not as fun being on the receiving end of it.”

“You were there, for a bit. That was a fun week filming.”

“Huh. I remember that.” Chris scrubs a hand through his hair, leaning back. “I’d managed to piss him off by, of all things, having only read one Kundera novel.”

They sit in silence, lost in memories.

“He, he used to make the best eggs benedict. Was a special occasion thing, hollandaise doesn’t agree with me that well. When Olivia told me it was over, he just came over and made eggs.” Chris spoke quietly, not wanting to break the image of Zach turning up and giving him a dressing down about how pathetic he was being before he just started taking over his kitchen. 

Kristen and Zoe were quiet, letting Chris speak.

“He was always honest, even if he was a bit of a dick about things at the time. You could count on him if you needed an opinion.” Chris’ eyes feel damp. “He acted like he didn’t care about anything, but would always call when he knew I needed it.” There are tears falling down his cheeks now. Zoe reaches a hand out and takes Chris’, holding tight. “I was so-, I’d do whatever he wanted. He only had to pull that puppy act and I’d be off getting another pastry for breakfast. He’d leave stupid notes for me to find when he went off to New York. I miss getting bitched at for not wearing a shirt that matched my suit. I miss…oh god.” Chris chokes, gasping for air, scrubbing at his eyes with his hand. “I miss him, so fucking much.”

Chris hunches over, trying desperately to control himself and failing miserably. He never thought something could hurt this much.

* * *

 

**After The Tour, 2010.**

Zach was sitting on the steps leading up to Chris’ apartment when Chris finally returned from wherever he had been. When Chris caught sight of him, he stopped short and gaped. Zach felt that he probably deserved that. They hadn’t seen each other since returning from the circus of the Trek press tour. It wasn’t for Chris’ lack of trying. It was Zach who stopped responding to the calls and messages. It was him who had tried to put distance between them.

Chris was still standing there, looking down at Zach, when he came back from his thoughts. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

“Hi.”

“Sure. Hello to you too.”

Zach winced at the clipped tone to Chris voice. Chris moved past Zach and up the stairs, not waiting for anything else. Zach stood up and sighed, following Chris up the stairs slowly with hunched shoulders. By the time he made it to the top, Chris had already unlocked the door and walked inside. He’d left the door open. Zach assumed that meant he was right to follow.

He closed the door behind himself before moving into the room. He could hear banging in the kitchen, but decided to leave him to it. He knew well enough that he was in the doghouse. Instead, Zach flopped down onto couch, and slouched into the position he always takes up on Chris’ couch.

“I have left over Thai or we can get Italian. Take your pick.” Chris was standing in the doorway, two takeaway containers in his hands.

“Uh, whatever. As long as it’s not pad see ew.”

“There’s garlic and pepper chicken, figured you wouldn’t want the noodles,” he replied. He turned back to the kitchen, and Zach could hear the sound of plates being pulled out of drawers and the microwave being set.

Chris walked back into living room, nudging the back of Zach’s arm with a beer. Zach reached up and took it from Chris.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

Chris grunted in acknowledgement before heading back to the kitchen. The place had changed a bit since Zach was here last. Packing boxes were strewn across the room. The bookshelf was in disarray, half the books put away while the rest were in haphazard stacks with no order. It added to the disjointed and displaced feeling Zach had at that moment. Like Chris had changed and Zach was desperately trying to catch up.

He had heard from Zoe a few weeks back that Chris was moving. That he was finally getting a place in a gated community rather than staying in his old apartment. Zach was sad to see it go. There were a lot of memories tied into this place, and it would be odd to see Chris anywhere else. There were days of sitting side by side on the couch with films playing in the background while debating the merits of whichever book Chris had fixated on last, of working through their Trek characters, and even earlier than that, excited gatherings after auditions and reads.

Zach felt the weight of the couch as it dipped next to him. Chris handed him his plate before he settled down next to him and reached for the remote to switch the television on. He loaded up an episode of Sherlock that had been recorded to the DVR. The silence stretched on as Chris studiously ignored the fact Zach was sitting next to him. There was the scratch of a fork on china as Chris stabbed at the pieces of tofu in his noodles. With a little too much vigour, Zach thought.

He took the opportunity to watch Chris in his frustration. It had been a while since he’d had the chance to just watch. Chris had a few days worth of stubble clinging to his face. There was a drawn expression there as well, and a weariness around his eyes. Zach hoped it wasn’t all because of him. He had missed his company, had missed having someone to bounce ideas off.

“When do you move?” Zach broke the silence.

“Thursday.”

“Oh.”

“Which you would have known if you hadn’t been such a prick the last few months.” Chris’ tone dripped with ice.

There was more silence for a while after that. Chris was not going to make this easy for him, he realised. Zach ran his hands through his hair.

“I fucked up, okay?”

“Really? I had no fucking clue.” The sarcasm drips from Chris’ tone as an eye roll and a shake of his head accompanied it. “It’s been months, Quinto. Without a single fucking reply. A guy can take a hint.”

“It wasn’t-” Zach started, only for Chris to speak over him.

“What was it then? We get back from Tokyo and nothing. You couldn’t bear to spend time with me. Yet you were more then happy to have lunch dates with Zoe. Even Cho and Karl saw you more than I did.” Chris turned to look at him, pinning Zach with a glare. Zach had forgotten how intense Chris could be when angry. He shivered slightly at having that look turned on him.

Zach put his plate down and swallowed a lump in his throat.

“I–, ” he paused, trying to find a way to frame it. “I was busy, with Before the Door. We’ve got projects. Margin Call is -”

“If you’re going to give me pathetic attempts at excuses, you can get out now,” Chris interrupted.

Every muscle in Chris’ body was tense.

“I’m not blameless. You dropped a fucking bombshell on me. I needed time to adjust!” Zach shot back.

“Adjust?! Fuck. You seemed perfectly fine to me. Fucking your way through basically anyone who would have you. The usual Zachary Quinto treatment of ‘ignore everything and it might go away’.” The air quotes were implied in Chris’ tone. “Don’t give me that line. Don’t even think of it.” Chris jabbed his fork in Zach’s direction. “Half my family is psychologists and you pick up shit like that. You need some serious work.”

“I know, okay, I fucking know, Chris,” Zach said, all the fight going out of him. “I know and I’m terrified because I met someone and I don’t want him to be just another fuck.”

That stopped Chris. He had his mouth open, the words he was forming died on his tongue. He shut his mouth before laying his fork down in his bowl. He clutched it between both hands. Zach watched Chris as he processed that statement.

“You’re a fucking mean bastard, Zachary,” Chris stated. “I hope you know that.” Chris sighed heavily, huffed a laugh, before shaking his head again.

“What?”

“Nothing. Fucking nothing. You know, I’m not normally the one people come to for relationship advice.”

“But you know therapists.”

“Yeah. Yeah I do,” Chris replied. He stood, picking up his plate and holding his hand out for Zach’s. “If we’re having this conversation, I need something fucking stronger.”

Chris left the room, taking both plates with him. Zach was relieved. He wasn’t 100% sure how Chris was going to react. He didn’t have anyone else he would trust with something like this. Zach’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket, opening up the message. He smiled down at the screen before chuckling and typing out a response.

“You are hopeless.”

Zach had missed Chris re-entering the room. He scowled.

“Shut up, princess.” He looked up at Chris, and paused. There was a look of longing there. Chris looked open and raw. Zach frowned, puzzled. “You okay?”

“Huh, what?” Chris blinked. “Yeah fine. Let me just give Katie a call. I can’t remember the name of the therapist guy.”

Chris turned and all but ran up the corridor leading to his study. Zach sat there, not sure what to make of it. He shrugged. Chris did odd things, this wasn’t anything new. 

\--

“So when do I get to meet him?” Chris asked.

“You’d want to?”

“Dude, you’re spending all your time with him. It’s obviously going well, why wouldn’t I want to meet him?” Chris leaned back on his chair and pushed his sunglasses back up on to his face while he sipped out of his takeaway coffee cup.

They were at LAMILL, and as a small concession on Chris’ part were sitting outside taking advantage of the sun that had finally broken through of the rain they had for the last week. Chris normally hated anything that gave the possibility of the public recognising him. He was intensely private and still was not comfortable with anyone prying into his life. Zach on the other hand, didn’t care as much. He realised it was all part of the territory. One of those small concessions for getting paid to pretend to be someone else and look good on a poster.

“We’re taking it slow. I don’t want to rush him into anything,” Zach said. He tore apart his muffin, collecting the broken pieces in the wrapper.

“That’s good. Particularly with you heading to New York soon. Basically Broadway man. Who would have thought?”

Zach grinned, not able to keep the excitement off his face. He had only got that phone call earlier that week and it hadn’t completely sunk in yet. “I’ve been looking at apartments. I think I’m going to go in a few weeks to take a look at a few I’ve shortlisted. I think Jonathan is going to come with me.”

“Makes sense. Though why the fuck you took a winter run is beyond me. You do know how fucking cold it gets there, yeah?” Chris asked.

“You’re so from So-Cal you dick. I was born in Pittsburgh. It will be like going home,” he replied. The thought of a climate like home was incredibly appealing. Being closer to his Mom also wouldn’t go astray. He might actually make it home to see her over Thanksgiving if the rehearsals permitted it.

“Oh, yeah, of course. That will be great,” Chris said, placing his cup back down on the table. “Well, you should bring Jon to the house warming at least. Give me a chance to at least say hi before you vanish off and start pronouncing coffee all wrong.”

“Why are you so eager to meet him?” Zach asked, puzzled.

Chris shrugged. “You came to me after not speaking for months. I’m personally invested in making sure he’s worth it for our dear Mr Spock. He can’t be seen with just anyone.” Chris’ tone was teasing, however there was something off about it. Like it had just the right amount of lightness to make it seem like he didn’t care about Zach bringing someone. “You’re still coming right?”

“Yeep.” Zach drew the one syllable out, trying to work out what was up. “I wouldn’t dream of missing out on viewing Casa del Pine in all it’s glory.”

Chris smiled then, a genuine Chris smile that Zach would compare to sunshine on a stormy day if it wouldn’t make him sound like a dork if he ever decided to voice the opinion.

* * *

 

**Three Weeks On.**

Chris walks on set two weeks after his world changed. He doesn’t feel like himself. He hasn’t since then. But he doesn’t have a choice. He never thought he would despise the words ‘contractually obliged’ as much as he does in this moment. Contractually obliged to pretend that he isn’t hurting in every moment. Contractually obliged to continue on as if he’d just been on break for two weeks. As if he could just step back into the mental headspace he was in before.

“Hello Chris.”

Chris looks up from the bench he’s sitting on as he feels someone sit next to him. They are filming outside today. It’s the first time he’s spent a significant portion of time just sitting outside in the sun. It’s an odd sensation.

“Hey, Kathryn,” Chris replies. He smiles, hoping that it appears genuine. “Sorry for disrupting everything.” He shrugs, ducks his head.

“Totally a-okay. I’m sorry we couldn’t give you more time. How’re you holding up?”

“It’s best I don’t answer that.”

Chris likes Kathryn Bigelow. She has an honesty about her that drew Chris to the project from the first meeting. It is an incredible script, the characters raw and honest. He is working with some incredible actors. This is easily one of those career highlight projects that don’t come along that often. Zach had all but called Chris’ agent back and said yes when Chris mentioned he was asked to look at the script.

“We’ve rearranged the schedule. I know you haven’t listened to any of the message we left with Greg, but we’ve changed the order of filming. We did a lot of coverage on Daisy to speed things up for you.”

“I, uh. I didn’t expect that. Thanks. I actually, uh, want to see Daisy before we start. I’m probably not going to be the best company off set. I’ll,” he pauses, swallowing. He takes a deep breath. “It won’t affect my work. I’ll do my best on that.”

“Chris,” she replies gently, “no one expects you to go back to how you were. You need a minute, you let us know. You need five, you have it. We’re working with you.”

Chris reaches out to rest a hand on Kathryn’s shoulder.

“I’ll be fine.” If he could tell himself that enough, maybe he’d come to believe it.

He finds Daisy next, in the line up for coffee at craft services.

“Chris! God, I missed you!”

She leaps forward and pulls Chris into a hug before he has time to react. Chris stiffens involuntary. He hasn’t had anyone this close to him since…well. Since.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” Daisy jumps back, covering her mouth with a hand and holding the other out. “I didn’t think.”

Chris chuckles. “It’s okay. It’s fine. C’mere.” He reaches out and pulls Daisy in, giving her a hug. “I’m not going to break, I promise.”

They line up to each get their respective coffee. It tastes different from how he remembers. He contemplates it. Maybe they got a new roast in?

_If you actually ever paid attention to coffee rather than the fact it just had fucking caffeine in it, you could probably answer that question, Princess._

Chris inhales softly, squeezing his eyes shut briefly. Zach pops up at random intervals to provide inane commentary. Chris wonders if this is what it feels like to go insane, truly insane and not his normal brand of charismatic, creative crazy. He curses his memory for being able to conjure the exact words Zach would have said. Daisy doesn’t notice his slip. She chats away, sipping at her coffee and continues on as if Chris hasn’t been absent from set for the last two weeks. It’s nice and refreshing. It’s normal. Chris needs normal. He can do this.

There’s gossip about who Daisy thinks is sleeping with who, about how Sam - the actor filling in one of the supporting roles – has been in the bad books with makeup since coming in with a hickey visible on his neck, how it’s rumoured that there’s the good pasta as one of the lunch options today. He has no idea what he says in response to any of it. It’s a weird feeling to be physically there, but at the same time miles away.

They’ve made it across the park to where all the trailers are parked, and Chris is standing on the middle of the set before he realises it. Everyone is looking at him. He’s used to being the centre of attention in a room, but he’s not used to there being this much tension. He swallows, before grinning determinedly.

“What, you’d think someone had died or something,” he says.

Chris is good at his job. He knows it. He knows that if he wants it, no one can see how much it’s costing him to smile to poke fun at that moment. He doesn’t quite know why he says it. He knows it probably wasn’t what people were expecting.

“Yeah okay. Bad joke I know.”

There’s a snort from Daisy next to him. “Understatement of the century.”

Most of the room chuckles at her comments. He feels something shift then, feels it lighten slightly. He smiles, relieved. They took the bait. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to stand the pitying looks he had been receiving.

“Just to get past the elephant in the room, I’m doing okay.  I’m not going to break. I may not be at my usual levels of wit and charm, but I’m still the most eloquent one in the room.” Chris is grinning, a relaxed and open expression on his face. At least, that’s what he hopes is on his face. “I’ve got this. Let’s go finish a film.”

Reality of course, is an entirely different thing.

\--

It’s another week and a half of filming before Chris feels it all fall apart.

Everyone has heard of life imitating art. It is rarely the case, but it’s definitely true that moments in scripts and then on stage and screen are fuelled by personal experience and emotional connection. Chris has studied the Stanislavski system and has always favoured it over method acting. He’s questioning that decision currently. He isn’t feeling confident about delivering an emotionally fuelled performance.

He knows his acting has been fine, that he’s getting through it and he’s heard the comments. There’s buzz about, and while it’s never worried Chris in the past, his current levels of anxiety are telling a different story.

He can’t just get by on superficial moments today.

It’s a pivotal scene between his character Stephen, and Daisy’s character Lucy. After months of crossing paths in European cities and getting to know each other, they have an argument. Stephen is running from his past and his failures. Lucy is an idealist living in a fantasy world. They argue about the point of trying to complete anything if you’re afraid to feel and take a leap of faith. Lucy brings up the fact that Stephen doesn’t want to be like his father but every step he has taken is leading him down the same path. The characters part at odds, not knowing when or if they will meet again.

It’s hitting a little too close to home for Chris. He received the forms for registering a death three days ago. He hasn’t taken them out of the envelope yet, beyond reading the enclosed letter. It’s on the desk in their shared study. Most of the paperwork he’s been ignoring is. He’s been a little on edge, but so far has mostly managed to channel this into the character.

Chris is standing, watching Daisy walk away from his position in the scene.

“Cut,” Kathryn calls. “Prepare for reset.”

She stands up from her chair and makes her way over to the section of LAX that they are currently filming in. It’s been made up to mimic Dubrovnik airport right down to signs being in Croatian and English. It’s a busy day on set, one that’s heavy with extras. There’s a flurry of activity as everyone heads off to reset. Days like this always have a lot of waiting. Chris is jumpy. He hasn’t been around this amount of people in a long time and he’s feeling a little claustrophobic. The inside sets have mostly been closed to reduce the number of people, but there are some scenes where it can’t be avoided.

“Chris, Daisy, that was good. We’re getting there. I think we need to look at it a different way. There’s something lacking. Stephen is sinking low; he is trying to remember why he is meant to be doing this.”

Chris nods. “Yeah, it’s a turning point for him, he just doesn’t know it yet. I’m trying to balance that, along with the realisation that in that moment, he is his father and that’s not something that he wants to be.”

“Mmm, it’s almost like he’s in denial of it,” Daisy pipes up. “What if we try something else, if Lucy is deliberately trying to provoke a reaction out of him, but doesn’t realise quite how deep it all goes?”

His make-up artist is there now, doing a few adjustments. Chris is thoughtful at that, considering. He could give it a go. It’s worth a shot. Acting is reacting to how you would feel in that moment, with the personality and history of your character in mind.

“Okay. Feel free to stray from the script if you need. Let’s just try making it organic and see what happens. We can reign it in next time. Just use this one to experiment.”

Kathryn walks back to her chair, as they all get ready again. Chris adjusts the backpack he has on and grabs the handle to the suitcase he is wheeling. It’s completely empty, which always feels strange for a suitcase. He stands across from Daisy, fake passport and tickets in hand. He rolls his shoulders, settling into Stephen.

“Quiet on set.”

Everything settles.

“Action.”

Lucy steps forward.

“Why not. What have you got to lose?”

“I can’t Lucy. I can’t. I’ve entertained this foolish idea I had. I’m a nothing, a nobody. I should never have left Chicago.”

“If that’s what you’re so determined to be, then fine. You throw it all away because you’re too scared to face reality. You’re too scared to admit that you might just succeed and that that thought _terrifies_ you.”

Chris notes vaguely from the thoughts that are under Stephen that they’ve deviated from the script now.

“Scared?” he scoffs. “How can you talk about scared when you’re running from everything. Your life, your friends. Your wedding. How is that any better from what I am doing?”

“At least I have the courage to admit when I’m not coping and I choose to do something about it!” Daisy is standing close, getting into his personal space and poking him in the chest.

He pushes her hand away. “What do you know about coping? What do you possibly know about coping with life when your baseline to reality doesn’t exist anymore?” He laughs, a broken sound. “Let me tell you something about courage and not coping. Courage is calling your sister to remove every substance from your house because you don’t trust yourself not to use them to fall into oblivion. Courage is stepping outside a door when you know every move you make isn’t your own, and that you’re expected to just be okay when nothing is ever going to be okay again.”

Chris hazily realises that he isn’t being Stephen anymore, but he can’t stop the words or stop his voice from getting harsher.

“Courage is getting up out of bed every fucking day because there’s a dog that needs feeding and plants that need watering. It’s calling the right people so they don’t come over and really see that you’re one minute away from breaking, and not coping is the realisation that you really don’t have a reason to pull yourself back from the edge any more and that you don’t even want to stop it!”

Chris stops then. He stops dead and realises that it’s silent around him. The extras have stopped moving and are just staring at him. Kathryn is standing from her chair, her headphones off. The crew are holding their breaths, frozen in place.

“Shit.”

He panics. He shifts on the spot, blood draining from his face as he desperately tries to keep it together. His hand is opening and closing on the suitcase handle next to him.

Daisy reaches a hand out and grabs Chris by the arm and pulls him around to look at her.

“Chris,” she pauses, searching his face. Chris is pleading with her silently. He’s suffocating, he can’t…he doesn’t even know what he needs. “Go.”

She grabs the props out of his hand and manhandles him out of the backpack, all but shoving him towards the end of their set.

Chris doesn’t look back. He takes off at a dead sprint through the mostly empty terminal, ignoring Kathryn’s shout. Thank god for filming at night. They’ve managed to avoid most of the public that would be using the space during the day. People stare as he goes past, but so far he has heard no shouts of recognition, and he thanks whoever is happening to be listening.

He should have realised he could never that lucky. Of course there are paps beyond security. It says something of his state of mind that Chris doesn’t even blink at them. Doesn’t care that his breakdown is going to be on the front page of every news, blog, and entertainment site come morning. He just keeps running until he makes it to the parking lot and the safety of his own car.

His breath is coming in short, shallow gasps. His eyes feel hot. He digs his cell phone out of his back pocket, thankful that he decided to keep it on him for a change. There are already three missed calls. One from Greg and two from Kacy, the assistant director. He ignores both, and instead hits speed dial and waits for it to connect.

“Hello, you’ve reached the voicemail of Zachary Quinto. I’m assuming you’ve got a basic level of intelligence and know what to do here. If not, I really don’t know why I would bother associating with you. Please remove yourself from my vicinity immediately.”

BEEP.

“Zach. Why did you leave me, Zach?”

* * *

 

**Los Angeles, 2011.**

“You’re back in LA.”

It took Zach a moment to realise that someone had spoken to him. He looked up, basket clutched in his hand. Chris was standing there in the middle of the fresh food section holding a bunch of what appeared to be radishes. Zach grinned. He had not expected to see him.

“Uh, yeah. Landed this morning. My fridge is completely devoid of food. Typical that you’re the first dork I run into,” Zach teased.

Chris laughed. “It’s good to see you, man.” He stepped forward and pulled Zach into a quick hug. When they stepped back, Chris was grinning. "I didn't think you were coming until next week," Chris said. He hadn’t let go of Zach’s shoulder.

"Change of plans. Joe has a gathering he wants me to be at. Ergo, here I am." Zach replied.

"Man, this is awesome. When are you free?"

Zach pointed at the radishes in Chris’ hand. Zach pointed at the radishes in Chris’ hand and raised an eyebrow. "Better question, why are you holding radishes?"

“What? Oh!” Chris looked down at the bunch of vegetables still in his hand. He added it to his own basket before he replied. “Gathering of Pines at mine tomorrow. Plus extras. Cho, Karl, a few Berkley friends. Katie wants dip.” Chris shrugged, still grinning. “You need to be there. 3pm. It’s been way too long. I need those glorious eyebrows in my presence.”

“I’ll see what I can do. How can I deny a pining Christopher all of this?” He swept his hand down to indicate all of himself.

“Been way too long, Zachary.” Chris looked genuinely pleased to see Zach. Zach was oddly buoyed by this thought. He’d missed Chris while in New York. Sure, they chatted and sent emails, but it wasn’t the same as seeing Chris in the flesh. Zach had gotten used to Chris being a constant presence in his life.

Zach's phone started ringing then. It blared out Staying Alive - Jon's ringtone. Zach fumbled, trying to pull it quickly out of his pocket one handed, his ears tinged pink.

Chris laughed, delighted. "Really, Quinto?"

"Fuck you."

"By all means, go ahead and answer."

Zach flipped him off, before finally answering the call.

"Hey baby."

Jon's voice was tinny through the line. “Hey, I got your message that you landed. I’m on break.” Zach could hear the noise of the set in the background.

Chris wandered off down an aisle, Zach following absently behind him. “Yeah, I’m just picking up groceries. I hope you’re okay with Italian for dinner.” Zach looked up to see Chris holding up a bag of walnuts, with one eyebrow raised. Huh, Chris remembered that he was going through a walnuts phase last time he was in LA. Zach shook his head. Chris shrugged and placed them back down on the shelf.

“Yeah, sure. That works. Can you do that salad with it as well?” Jon asked.

“Uhh, yeah, sure. Do you-“

Chris chose that moment to interrupt his conversation. “Are you actually going to get anything?” He was standing there, a questioning look on his face.

“Zach?” Jon’s voice questioned.

“Sorry, distracted, ran into Chris. The kale one?” Zach glared at Chris. Chris rolled his eyes and moved off.

“Chris?” Jon asked.

“Yeah, Pine.” Zach watched as he added mustard and ketchup to his basket. There was a rustling in the background before the line went quiet. “You met him at his housewarming, back when we started seeing each other.”

“I remember. How did you run into him?” Jon’s tone was curious.

“We practically live in the same neighbourhood.”

“Also this is the only store that does a decent chutney, just fyi,” Chris called as he walked past, loud enough for Jon to hear.

Zach chuckled. “It’s a good chutney.” He tucked his phone between his shoulder and chin, as he reached out to grab at Chris.

“Christopher,” he called.

Chris wheeled around. “Yep?”

“I need kale.”

“Kale.”

“Yes, kale.”

“And?”

Zach just looked at Chris and waited.

“Fuck you.” Chris turned away while flipping Zach off. Zach laughed, still chuckling when he went back to Jon.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I- what? You weren’t listening?” Jon sounds annoyed. Shit.

“Sorry, it’s noisy in here.” Zach ran a hand through his hair, scratching at the side of his head.

Jon sighs. “Fine, whatever. I’ve got to go. I’ll be ‘round by 8.”

“I’ll see you then. Red?”

“Yeah, red works.” Jon was gone before Zach could respond. Zach sighed. He should have been paying more attention. Oh well. Zach pocketed his phone turned around and searched for Chris.

He found him standing in front of the cheese cabinet.

“Contemplating the meaning of life?

“The inherent merits of camembert and cheddar, actually.” Chris replied. “I have your kale.” He held out the bunch. “Why you eat this is beyond me.”

“Jon wanted it.” Zach shrugged. “I’m making pasta, the kale’s for a salad. You know, that green stuff you don’t touch?”

“It’s unnatural.”

“Child.”

Chris picked up both the camembert and cheddar. “I’ll have you know, I have countless sources who can back me up.”

“Susan doesn’t count.”

Chris swore. “You wound me.”

Zach laughed. It was well known that Chris’ agent was almost as neurotic as Chris was when it came to food. Most of their business meetings usually took place at restaurants where salad was not the primary focus. It’s probably how he had stuck with the same one for so long.

“You’re a mystery to your own, Pine,” he said. “No wonder you are always single.”

“I’ll have you know, Olivia thought I was adorable.”

Zach snorts. “Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that, it’ll become true.”

They hear a click from behind them that sounded distinctly like a camera going off. In that moment, Zach realised how close they had ended up. Chris looked up and met Zach’s eyes. There was a look of resignation there. The open humour Chris had before had vanished. Chris squared his shoulders before he turned around.

Something settled in Zach’s stomach as he turned as well. A weight that had lifted when he had seen Chris was back, a small knot tension sitting low. If you looked at Chris, you would not know that he hated the public attention as much as he did. He was good at being friendly, and had a natural charisma. He was laying it on now, making conversation with the teenage girl who had spotted them. She was blushing. Zach didn’t blame her. Having been on the end of Chris’ flirting more times then he could count, he knew how overwhelming Chris could be. Chris could not help it. Zach didn’t think he was actually aware of what he did when he got like this. The girl didn’t stand a chance.

They both posed for a photo with her before she left. As far as fan encounters went, it wasn’t bad. Even so, they didn’t regain the banter they had before. The real world had intruded and they were reminded of what they needed to be doing.

They parted ways, as Chris called out over his shoulder. “3pm. Don’t make me come and get you.”

Zach nodded, lost in thought.

\--

When Chris said it was a small affair, he never should have believed him. Chris was the oddest mix of an introvert and extrovert, and it was clear to Zach that it was the extrovert strain that had taken over today. Jon had agreed, begrudgingly, to come after dinner last night. Zach wasn’t sure if it was his buttering up with the food or the sex that had convinced him, but he was counting it as a win.

“Zach, Jon, welcome. Make yourselves at home,” Chris added, with a wink. He stepped back to let them in.

“Casa del Pine is looking more lived in than the last time I was here,” Zach commented.

“Yeah, finally got everything sorted. Took longer than expected. I got distracted refitting most of the rooms.” Chris shrugged. He closed the door and moved off into the hallway.

“So, Lauren and Tyler are here from Berkeley, along with Caleb, Julia, and Steph. You probably met them last year. Trek crew are here too. It’s a bridge day all over again. The various incarnations of Pines are out the back. Plus others. To be fair, I’m not 100% sure on who everyone is, but that’s what makes it fun.” He walked through into the kitchen, picking up a wine glass and filling it for Zach. “Jon, can I get you something?”

Zach took the glass, inhaling before taking a sip. “This is good. You’ve been holding out on me.”

Chris grinned, “Pa brought one of his vintages down. Thought you’d like it.” He turned back to Jon. “I’ve got others as well if wine is your thing. There’s cider too, Zoe’s favourite.”

Jon smiled politely. “Actually, do you have just some sparkling? I’m driving this one,” he jerked a thumb to indicate Zach, “so should probably hold off a bit.”

“No worries.” The doorbell chimed, interrupting Chris. “Damn, give me a sec…actually, Zach, you know where the glasses are. Sparkling’s in the left hand side. Should be lime around somewhere as well. Help yourself.” With that, Chris was out of the room.

Zach placed his glass down, before moving across the kitchen to pull out a glass. “I swear, he’s not always this manic.”

Jon chuckled, moving forward to rest a hand on Zach’s waist. “Honey, I worked with Lea. I don’t think you’ve seen a definition of manic until you seen her on three coffees and no sleep.”

“This is a fair comparison.”  Zach leaned up and kissed the edge of Jon’s mouth. “Lime?”

Jon nodded, stepping back. Zach moved over to the fridge, grabbing a lime from the citrus drawer and turning to get out a chopping board and knife.

“You’re so comfortable here,” Jon said quietly.

Zach shrugged. “I didn’t spend much time here before moving to New York.” He chopped the lime into small wedges and added a couple to the glass. “However, he is notorious for liking his kitchen to be set up a particular way. His old apartment was right around the corner from me, and back when Trek was filming I was there a lot. I figured he’d keep everything in similar locations.” He handed Jon his glass. It is strange how Chris had always been part of Zach’s life. He’s never questioned it.

“Well, does the boyfriend of the good friend get a tour? We were both incredibly drunk last time I was here. I don’t remember it.” Jon smiled, picking up the drink Zach held out.

“Done.”

\--

The afternoon soon morphed into evening and the guests changed throughout, a constant flow of people coming and going. Zach ended up out in the back garden, lounged in one of oversize chairs Chris had placed around the edge of the patio. He had been chatting to a variety of people as they dropped past, being quite content to stay in the one spot and let others come to him. Jon had wandered off, after realising a few of his drama school friends had turned up.

Chris chose that moment to flop down in the empty chair next to him.

“If I ever get it into my head to entertain this amount of people again, please remind me of this conversation.”

“Duly noted. Though, I believe you do only have yourself to blame for the endless stream of people.”

Chris sighed, resigned. “Yeah yeah, me and my fat mouth. I get way too excitable about having friends over, then realise I’m shit at the whole hosting thing and I would be way happier with a glass of wine and a novel.” He paused, leaning his head back to glance over at Zach. “And yes, before you point it out, I realise that I’m totally ruining my ‘cool’ image and I am beyond caring.”

Zach chuckled softly. “Really Pine. You do this every time, and yet, you are always surprised.” He reached over and ruffled Chris’ hair.

“Fuck off.” Chris swatted at his hand. He sighed again, scrubbing at his eyes before shifting.

“Zach?”

“Yes, princess?”

“No, I need friend-Zach, not flippant-Zach.”

Zach sat up at that. There was a serious tone to Chris’ voice. Ah. So that’s what this gathering was about. Chris had an odd way of dealing with problems and decisions. Too often, Zach would end up at a gathering Chris had organised, only to be cornered late into the evening when Chris needed to talk through his thoughts. He should have recognised the signs earlier.

“Listening.”

Chris stayed where he was, limbs splayed out and leaning back. “I’m thinking of leaving my agent.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. John’s been talking about options. I’m not sure what else Susan and SDB can offer.”

“You’ve been with them for nine years. It’s longer then a lot of actors would have stayed.”

Chris was contemplative. He took a moment before speaking. Zach watched him closely.

“I know. I feel very loyal to them. They helped create my career from nothing to what it is now. They know me.”

“But?” Zach asked quietly.

“I don’t think they can go where I want to go. They have been fantastic, but the last group meeting we had I just came away feeling frustrated. Like we were looking at two different paths and there were no converging points.” Chris tapped out a rhythm on the armrest of the chair, distracted. “I feel stagnant. I need to be building after Trek, not taking more of the same.”

Zach nodded. He felt oddly protective and wanted to hug Chris close. He hadn’t realised this was what Chris was grappling with. “It’s a big decision. You have to do what feels right for you. It’s part of why I moved with UTA. You, as actor Chris Pine, are a brand and you have to make business decisions.” Chris nodded, still looking down. “Have you talked to Bob?”

“No. I haven’t mentioned it to anyone.”

“You should. Even though he’s been out of the game for, well, years, he knows the industry.”

“Yeah. I just, didn’t want to bother them with it. They worry.”

Zach looked over to where they were sitting, with a gathering around them. He likes Chris’ parents. He’s met them a few times. He gets a regular Sunday lunch invitation whenever he is in town.

“You don’t have to decide immediately. Talk with Bob, work through it. I know you feel like this now, but will you still feel like this in six months if you haven’t found anyone else?”

Chris’ tone turns defensive. “You don’t have to have representation.”

“No,” Zach agrees. “It makes it easier though.”

“Sure. I’ve been getting offers.”

“As have I. It’s part of the business.” Zach reached out, patting Chris knee in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “All I’m saying is make sure they are the right offers. Don’t jump without a parachute to catch you.”

“You’re right,” Chris sighed, hand briefly squeezing Zach’s before letting go. “You’re always right.”

“Psh, hardly. I’ve just made a lot of these mistakes. I didn’t have it as easy as you.”

“And we’re back to the regular Quinto guilt trips. Thanks, man.”

Zach grinned lazily, leaning his elbow on the edge of his chair and resting his chin in his hand. “Got to get one over you whenever I can, Mr. Male Star of Tomorrow.”

Chris laughed outright at that, drawing attention from those who were in the backyard. Zach noticed that Jon had a weird look on his face, but he dismissed it to his imagination. Chris looked more relaxed, calmer somehow.

“I can always count on your to keep my massive ego under control.”

Zach winked. “I’m going to have to start charging. And also checking you actually know my number, dude. I could have saved you weeks of angst and vague instagram posts if that was a thing you actually did.”

“There was angst. I read Dante.”

“No,” Zach replied, feigned shock.

“Dante?” Jon had made his way over.

“Yep. Good ol’ Pine’s favourite way of expressing all his inner pain and turmoil. Was it Inferno or Purgatorio this time?” Zach glanced up at Jon before turning back to Chris.

“Purgatorio. Those slopes of purgatory, man. They speak to me.” Chris held Zach’s gaze, a soft look on his face. He licked his lip, looking like he was about to say something before he spoke better of it. His eyes flicked to Jon and back to Zach.

Jon was still standing there, observing. “Oh, don’t let me interrupt. I just came to check on this one.” Jon leaned down to kiss Zach, threading a hand into Zach’s hair.

Zach returned the kiss, before he drew back. Jon growled softly, and just kissed him harder. Zach was aware of Chris coughing and pointedly looking away. Jon drew back, humming in satisfaction. He stood back up, and met Chris’ gaze briefly. He left and headed back inside the house.

Zach felt uncomfortable. “Uh, sorry about that. He…”

Chris waved it away. “Dude, don’t mention it. It’s fine.”

Rule three. Don’t flirt with Chris while your boyfriend is in the same location. Damn. Zach would pay for that one later.

* * *

**Five Weeks On.**

The noise of Chris’ mobile is startlingly loud in the space around him. He’s standing in the entranceway, the mail he just collected in his hand. He’s been staring at it blankly, ever since he realised what he is holding. The phone continues to ring, the ascending tones getting louder. Noah whines at Chris’ feet, still demanding to be patted after Chris’ entry. The phone cuts off. Chris steps forward, kicking the door closed behind him and dropping his bag down next to the sofa. He moves without seeing the space around him, unable to drag his eyes from the envelope he’s holding. The stamp of the California Department of Public Health Vital Records is stark against the white background.

There’s a buzzing in his head. Chris takes a shallow breath, his hand shaking. He puts the envelope down on the kitchen counter without opening it. He already knows what is inside. He doesn’t want to think about it. He’d gone for most of the day without thinking of Zach. This has to be karma for that. Chris laughs bitterly. Fuck. He deserves this.

He turns and reaches over to pull open the cupboard, grabbing out Noah’s food and adding it to his bowl. He takes it over to the spot by the door and places it down, scratching at Noah’s ears as he dives into it. His phone rings again. Chris ignores it. He opens the fridge instead, staring at the few dishes inside. In the first few weeks, it was overflowing with food. Chris had more meals than he knew what to do with. He wasn’t sure what it was about death that made people want to cook. He didn’t eat any of them. He barely touched food in the first few days. He got away with it for a while. It wasn’t until the wardrobe department onset had to start taking his clothes in that anyone realised. He was watched after that, with Kacy always making sure he had a meal and someone to make sure he ate it. Daisy normally took on that task.

Right now, he’s not hungry. Food is the last thing on his mind. His mouth is completely dry and feels like lead. He doesn’t think he could keep anything down even if he tried. He glances at the envelope before looking away again, swallowing. The room seems smaller, even though the house has felt nothing but huge and empty for the past month. Chris swears the walls are creeping closer, knows it’s a delusion but powerless to stop it.

_Christopher. Breathe. The walls are inanimate objects, they aren’t moving. They can’t._

“What do you know about it, huh? You’re not here,” he snaps to the empty room.

Chris is moving before he realises it. Zach always was the catalyst for Chris. He’s spent too long reacting to Zach and he barely realises it’s probably not healthy to react to a memory, even if it is a vivid as this. He’s in the bedroom, grabbing a bag from the closet and throwing whatever he can reach into it. His phone rings again, interrupting him. Chris growls, picking it up to switch it off, before also throwing it into the bag. He has to get away. There are too many memories here.

He throws the bag down at the front door before heading in the laundry to gather up supplies for Noah. He chucks those towards the door as well. He picks up Noah’s lead, clipping it to his collar.

“You up for a bit of a drive, buddy?”

Noah looks up at him, his big, black eyes staring back.

Chris pauses in the kitchen doorway, hesitating. He makes to move away, before stepping back in and grabbing the envelope off the counter. It crumples slightly as he tucks it into a pocket of his bag. Chris picks them both up, juggling Noah’s lead in his hand as he wrenches the front door open.

He’s made it out to the I-5 before he really has processed what he is doing. He has no idea where he is going, and frankly, at that moment, he doesn’t care. Noah is curled up on the front seat, already asleep. Chris is the opposite. He’s wide-eyed and keyed up on a mix of adrenaline and anxiety, one part of his brain screaming at him about how much of a not-good idea this is, while the other is blissfully high on the feeling of freedom. The city landscape of LA drops away and distance grows between street lamps. There are very few other cars around. Chris passes the odd one heading in the opposite direction. It’s quiet.

They drive for hours, Chris not stopping or taking his focus off the road. He’s clinging to a lifeline, to a hope that the road stretching in front of him will offer some solace to his tumultuous mind. He grinds his teeth, gripping the steering wheel tightly. His shoulders are hunched and his back aches from the tension he’s holding there.

It starts growing light again. Slowly, then before he realises it the sun is shining through the windscreen. Chris blinks. He has no idea how he’s managed to get here. He can track his actions back, can realise that he’s taken turns, made decisions. But he has no conscious memory of it. Noah is stirring next to him. He raises his head and barks softly.

“Hey boy.” Chris reaches one hand out to scratch his ears gently. “We’ll stop soon. Once I work out where we are.”

Chris runs a hand through his hair. There’s a different type of anxiety there now. He doesn’t actually know where they are. He hopes there are road signs soon. He needs gas. And probably should sleep.

He catches sight of a sign up above, and does a double take when he realises that is showing Carson City ahead. Oh. That’s a bit further then he thought he’d gone.

“Huh. Carson City. Why is that familiar?” he asks Noah softly.

Noah woofs gently in response.

“You recognise it, bud?”

Chris gets a lowered head for that one. His voice is scratchy. He hasn’t spoken in a while. His throat is dry. He wishes he had of thought to grab water or supplies on his mad dash out the door. He takes the turn off for Carson, figuring he’ll find a gas station and work out what to do then.

He pulls into a bay and gets out to fill up. It’s early enough that there aren’t attendants around. He pulls the cap and sunglasses out of the glove compartment by habit and shoves them on, wishing he had a coat with him as well. He isn’t in a mood to be recognised. Has even less tolerance now than before.

Chris heads inside to pay, grabbing a few essentials and pausing by the stand filled with maps and local guides. He can’t help but notice how many of them point out Lake Tahoe. He pauses, hand about to pull one out. He hovers there, staring at it. That’s why Carson City was familiar. The ill-fated ski holiday Zach had convinced him to come on. They didn’t actually end up doing much skiing. Chris had managed to injure himself on the first day and instead spent most of it inside with a sprained ankle that he couldn’t put pressure on. Chris draws his hand back slowly, blinking.

He turns and pays; thankfully managing to avoid the slightly questioning look he was receiving from the attendant. He lets Noah out and walks him over to the strip of grass at the side of station so that he can take care of his business. Well. Tahoe. He guesses there is as good as anywhere.

\--

Chris ends up renting one of the private cabins that are situated on the edge of the lake. It’s the off-season, and it’s a weekday. The rental agent is ecstatic, and became even more enthusiastic when Chris handed over his ID to complete the paperwork. There are a few too many promises of ‘Just let me know what you need Mr Pine’ than Chris is comfortable with. He has an odd feeling that if he stays here too long, there will be an influx of press in neighbouring cabins. Of course, that could also be the paranoia talking.

He is sitting in the front room, a cup of coffee next to him and the envelope sitting innocently on the table. He’s been staring at it, trying to decide if he wants to open it or not. Noah is out back, enjoying rolling on the grass in the sun. There’s a breeze off the lake, and Chris is savouring the quiet. There’s no traffic that he can hear, no LA smog. Just the lake and forest. Chris has always retreated to nature when he’s upset. His garden, and it’s his garden – Zach never took an interest – also became more green when he was wrestling with a difficult decision or had a period of stress.

He’s exhausted.

He reaches a hand out to pick up the envelope, carefully breaking the seal and drawing out the pieces of paper contained within. He ignores the covering letter, placing this down. He stares at the next page. It’s the formal certificate. Chris’ breath hitches. It’s too decorative. His hand is trembling and he can’t breathe properly. There’s not enough air. When did his lungs stop being able to convert oxygen? He’s drowning and doesn’t know how to find up. He presses the back of his hand to his mouth, gasping. He isn’t crying. He hasn’t cried since the funeral. Does that make him a bad person? He’s not sure. He makes himself say the words.

“US standard certificate of death. Decedent’s legal name. Zachary John Quinto-Pine.” It’s loud in the quiet of the room around him. “Resident of Los Angeles and New York. Mother’s name Margaret J Quinto. Married at time of death. Surviving spouse’s name…” He trails off then, he knows the rest. Zach’s dead. He buried him, along with the pieces of Chris’ fractured heart four and a half weeks ago. How is he meant to continue on his own? They had a plan. They had a fucking plan and now Zach isn’t there to see it out.

Chris gets up, letting the pages drop out of his fingers onto the table. He walks out the back door and heads down to the lake edge. He stands there, hands wrapped around his arms and water lapping gently at his feet. He’s angry, and he’s not sure how to diffuse the anger. There’s energy thrumming through his veins, and his fingers feel like they are on fire. He digs his phone out of his pocket, switching it on and waiting for it to connect.

There’s a series of missed calls and messages. He scrolls through, ignoring them until he gets to Katie’s name. He dials and waits for it to go through.

“Hello, this is Katie.”

“Hey.” Chris voice is oddly soft, a contrast to how he is feeling.

“Chris? Oh my god I’ve been trying to reach you!” Katie sounds a little frantic.

Chris smiles, empty. “Uh yeah, sorry about that. I turned my phone off.”

“Needed a break?”

“Something like that.”

There’s silence for a while. Chris can hear the rustle of paper on Katie’s end, hears a door closing. Chris takes a breath, trying to calm the pumping of his heart.

“I’m in Tahoe.”

“You’re where?”

“Tahoe. Lake Tahoe. I uh, spontaneous road trip.”

“I was hoping you meant a Tahoe in LA that I wasn’t aware of.”

“I wanted out of LA,” Chris replies, shifting on the spot. He digs his toe further into the pebbles and sand.

“Chris, you should have stayed close.” Katie’s tone has taken on a mothering edge. Chris bristles at that.

“I don’t need you to look after me. I’m fine.”

“Oh really?” Katie replies, disbelief evident in her tone.

“Yes fine.” Chris can be stubborn when he wants to.

“What are you running from?”

“I’m not running.”

“Yes you are. I know you. I’m actually surprised it took this long.”

“What, so you were all taking bets on how soon my next breakdown was going to appear? Gee, thanks.”

“No Chris. Believe it or not, this is a normal part of the process.”

Chris laughs bitterly. “Normal? Yeah, sure. All of this is normal.”

“Yes, Chris, it is.”

“I’m not one of your patients, Katie.”

“What did you call me for then?”

“I got the certificate,” Chris says.

There’s a huff of noise on the other end. “Oh.” There’s a long pause. Chris can hear Katie’s chair creaking in the background. He can imagine the look of concern on her face. “How are you?”

“Now she cares,” Chris replies. He’s being flippant, defensive, and more than a little childish. He thinks he’s earned it by this stage.

“Chris,” Katie says, a warning in her tone.

“No, Katie, you don’t get to lecture me then pretend you care. No one actually cares.”

“That’s not fair-“

Chris cuts her off. “Not fair?” He laughs bitterly. “Not fair is a pretty gross understatement at all of this. Zach _leaving_ me is not fair. The world letting me believe that hey, you can actually find someone to share this crazy life with, but just kidding, you only get a few years. That’s not fair.”

“Chris, it’s not what I meant.”

“Then tell me Katie. Tell me exactly what you meant.”

“People do care. You don’t have to do this alone-”

“Katie,” Chris cuts her off, “I am the definition of alone. If there was some way for me to right now trade everything, and I mean _everything,_ for just one more hour with him, then I would do it in a heartbeat. But there’s not. God doesn’t exist and neither does the devil.”

Chris doesn’t even bother hanging up the call. He just throws his phone as far as he can and watches as it sinks into the lake.

\--

He stays there for a week. He eventually has to head into the small town at the south end of the lake to pick up supplies, and the entire journey is filled with anxiety that he is going to be recognised and that the press will be out here before you could say ‘Captain Kirk’. Chris doesn’t really have any faith left in humanity by this stage.

Before he leaves, Chris stops by the local café to pick up a takeaway coffee and a snack. He’s got his bomber jacket on with his sunglasses and his cap pulled down as far as possible. He’s trying to go unnoticed and is deliberately avoiding looking at anyone. As he is handed his paper cup, the barista – who was also the owner, Chris discovers – also holds out an extra pastry.

“I know it’s none of my business, and it’s obvious you’ve come here to get away from all that, but just know that no one who has any respect will give you away, Mr Pine,” the barista says.

Chris pauses, hand mid reach. “What…uh, I mean. Wow. I’m bad at this.”

The barista waves Chris’ apology aside. “We understand. I hope you find what you need.”

With that, the barista turns aside, hurrying back over to the register to take another order. Chris is still standing there, too shocked to really process what’s happening. He takes a tentative step towards the door before pausing again. He turns to a table instead, selecting one that’s close to the back of the small room.

Chris becomes a regular at the café after that. He hasn’t replaced his phone yet, so it becomes the only real form of contact he has with the outside world. Chris learns that the barista’s name is Julia and she’s lived in Tahoe all her life. She’s an avid ball fan and watches every game when she’s not working. Her husband and daughter also live and work in the café, which has been family owned for a number of years. Her daughter has just started her senior year of high school and is hoping to study media communications at university. Chris finds comfort in the back table. He starts to bring sketchbooks and notebooks down with him, which he doodles through as he lets the hours pass by. Noah is eventually introduced and allowed to sit in the corner with Chris, as long as he behaves. It gives Chris the confidence to explore further.

He starts going for walks each afternoon along the lakefront. The air coming off the lake is cool and clear. It’s refreshing. Chris finds different spots to sit and watch as the sun fades and the night stars take over. He doesn’t remember seeing them so clearly in a long while. Maybe that time their car broke down driving back from San Francisco and they were stuck on the side of the highway for a while. He finds the memories hurt less out here. They are still raw, and he doesn’t think he will ever not feel this empty, but he can think about them without shutting down.

It’s overcast and threatening with rain on the day Chris is sitting on stretch of sand, his shoes off and bag down next to him. He’s wearing one of Zach’s plaid shirts that are too big for him, the sleeves rolled up to stay out of the way. He has his sketchbook out, opened at a page that’s half complete. There’s a mom with her son playing down at the other end, a kite that they are trying to get into the air laying on the ground. The young boy is laughing, a carefree sound full of joy. He’s streaking up and down the beach, curls flying in the breeze.

Chris looks up and watches them for a while.

“Mommy, mommy! Try again!”

The mom picks up the kite, reeling in the line before crouching down.

“You ready to hold the line, Seth?” she asks.

Seth nods enthusiastically. “I’ll hold it real tight. Like you said.”

“Good boy! You stay here, I’ll step back a bit, okay?”

Chris watches as Seth holds the handle and Seth’s mother steps back to launch it up into the sky. He smiles softly at the interaction. He remembers learning how to fly a kite when he was younger. The beach then was a different one, but the principles hadn’t changed.

He looks back down at his sketchbook. It’s an image of Zach. It’s the first one he’s sketched in a while. He’s doing it from memory. Black lines are flowing from the end of Chris’ pencil. Darkening a line here, shading there. It’s a side profile, Zach staring off at something in the distance. HIs pencil pauses. He runs his hand across the image softly, biting his lip. He sighs softly.

There’s a commotion at the other end of the beach and a shouted “Watch out, mister!”

Chris looks up sharply and notices that Seth is running towards him pointing up. Chris looks. The kite is dropping through the sky and is heading straight for him. Chris brings his hands up attempting to shield his face and throwing himself sideways. The kite crashes down next to him. It would have taken Chris out if he hadn’t dived out of the way. His sketchbook was thrown from his lap and landed a few feet away.

“Seth! What did I tell you about letting go?”

“Not to let go,” Seth replies.

They make it over to Chris by then. He stands up, brushing sand from his pants and hands.

“I’m so sorry,” Seth’s mom says.

“No harm done,” he replies. He reaches down to pick up the kite. The string is in a tangled mess. “Can’t say the same for the kite.”

Seth is tucked in behind his mother’s legs, looking around shyly. For all his bravado in running over before, he looks to be in awe of Chris at that moment. Chris comes over and crouches down, holding the kite out to Seth.

“I lost my grip on the first kite I flew as well. Except I managed to take out quite a few more people,” Chris says. He smiles, reassuring. “Maybe don’t try flying it on a SoCal beach just yet.”

Seth nods, still not moving. Seth’s mother nudges him slightly. “What do you say, Seth?”

“Yes, sir,” he says automatically.

“Here. How about we get this straightened out and we give it another go, hey?”

Seth nods, finally stepping forward to take the kite from Chris. He stands up, watching as Seth gathers up the strings and handle. Seth’s mom has picked up Chris’ sketchbook, dusting off the pages.

“You’re good at this,” she says.

Chris flushes slightly. “Uh, thanks.” He shrugs. “Just a bit of a hobby. Something to pass the time.”

“I’m Monica, this one here is Seth.” She nods towards Seth.

“Chris,” he replies automatically.

Monica laughs, a light sound. “I know. I think everyone knows.”

“Of course they do. Let me give you a tip, don’t become an actor if you value privacy.” Chris folds his arms, holding them awkwardly.

She’s still holding his sketchbook. Chris wants it back. He doesn’t share that with anyone. He’s trying to think of a polite way to ask for it that doesn’t make him sound like a prick.

“Who is this?” She’s holding the page out to the one he was working on. It’s not complete, so Chris isn’t surprised she can’t work out how it is.

“That’s Zach.” He says it with barely a hint of emotion.

“It’s lovely. Will you show it to him?”

Chris swallows, opening his mouth before closing it again. He coughs, clearing his throat, and praying his voice is steady. “I uh, no. He passed.”

Monica’s eyes go wide. “Oh. Oh my god.” She closes the sketchbook, bringing a hand up to her mouth, shocked. “You meant that Zach. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.”

Chris forces himself to smile. “It’s okay. I don’t…expect you to realise.” Chris’ voice is hoarse. He reaches out a hand for the sketchbook and Monica gives it to him. “Sorry. It hasn’t been that long. I’m still adjusting.”

Monica nods. She hesitates a moment before speaking. “I am sorry. For your loss. It’s…it’s never easy.”

“No,” is all Chris says.

They stand there for a while, Chris clutching the sketchbook to his chest. There’s tension in the air. Chris is trying to think of a way he can politely leave.

“When Trevor passed a year after Seth was born, I didn’t know how I was going to continue. He had cancer,” Monica says quietly. Chris blinks. He didn’t predict this, couldn’t have factored it into the equation. Monica continues, “The first few weeks. Nothing prepares you for that. I know it sounds like the cliché thing to say, but it gets better. Not quickly. And definitely not all at once. But you start counting the small improvements as victories. Getting out of bed. Making lunch. A load of laundry.” Monica shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. You’re surviving, even when the gaping hole just gets bigger.”

“How-,” Chris starts, before breaking off. He doesn’t know what he is asking.

“How did I get through it?” she asks.

Chris nods. Monica is silent for a while before answering.

“I didn’t for a long while. I wanted to just pretend it all didn’t exist. If you ignore something for long enough, it goes away right? I had Seth though. I couldn’t ignore Seth. He doesn’t remember his father. He’s not old enough to ask the right questions yet. I’m not sure how I will get through that when he does. Speaking about the memories I think. The good ones. Making sure he knew how loved he was.” Monica turns to Chris. “I don’t think there’s one set way to do it. I know there will be a day when you wake up, and think ‘today is okay’. Then it becomes ‘today was good’. And you continue.”

Chris can’t imagine a day where he thinks he will be able to describe it as good. He’s not sure that that place exists any longer.

“Small steps, Chris.”

He realises the disbelief must have shown on his face. When did he become this easy to read?

“T-Thank you. For sharing with me.”

Monica smiles softly and reaches a hand out to touch Chris’ arm where it’s still folded over his chest. She steps back, turning to Seth.

“Come on, rascal. Time to get you home.”

Chris stands on the beach well past the time the sun has set. Maybe he will be okay. He doesn’t think it’s going to be anytime soon, but maybe it is possible.

\--

He’s sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee when the doorbell goes off. Chris frowns. No one rings his doorbell. He sits there, waiting, hoping that whoever it is will go away. It rings again, this time followed by a knocking on the door. Chris stands, pushing back from the table.

“Chris, I know you’re in there,” a voice calls. It sounds oddly familiar.

_Hmm, I wonder why that is Christopher. Who does it sound like?_

Zach had been popping up less and less over the last few weeks. Why would he choose now to reappear? The knocking continues, this time sounding more like someone is pounding a fist on the door. Noah comes flying past Chris and skips to a stop in front of the door, barking. He’s going ballistic, pawing at the door.

“Okay, calm down buddy, come on,” Chris calls.

Noah barely acknowledges his call. Chris frowns, it’s unlike Noah to ignore him. Zach trained him well. “Noah,” Chris commands. Noah pauses at that, giving one last forlorn look to the door before he settles down next to Chris. He scratches Noah behind the ear, murmuring softly to him. He stands and unlocks the door, pulling it open.

Joe Quinto isn’t who he expected to be on the other side.

“Oh.” Chris stands there, mouth open slightly. He snaps it shut when he realises he is staring. He gestures to Noah who immediately launches himself forward at Joe.

“Hey Noah!” Joe crouches, scratching at Noah’s ears. Noah barks in response, making every attempt to lick Joe’s face. “Oi!”

“Noah,” Chris says, warning in his tone.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” Joe replies, scratching at Noah’s belly.

“He’s trained better than that.”

Joe stands up after that and Noah seems happy, trotting back past Chris and into the house. They stand there for a moment, Chris still in the doorway. Time stretches, until even Chris can feel how awkward it’s become. Good. He didn’t want company and isn’t sure why Joe is here.

“Can I come in?” Joe asks.

Chris waits another moment before he nods and steps back to let Joe pass. He notices that Joe has a backpack and that stupid NY Yankees cap that Zach got him for Christmas a few years back.

“How did you get here?”

Joe’s shrugging off the backpack, letting it rest against the entryway wall. “Flew to Reno. Caught a lift out to here. Asking around the town got me vaguely pointed in this direction, though it wasn’t easy. No one wanted to talk. I had to prove who I was before they’d even admit you were here.”

“They are oddly loyal like that,” Chris responds absently

“How long have you been here?” Joe asks.

Chris shrugs. “Few weeks.”

“Right. You didn’t think it would be a good idea to let people know you were leaving?”

“I’m not doing this.”

Chris turns, heading back to the kitchen. He stubbornly picks up his mug and sits back down at the table. He hears rather then sees Joe joining him. He refuses to look up at him, staring at the newspaper instead. The words are blurring together, jumbles of black and white that wriggle oddly on the page.

“Chris.”

“What?”

“We need to talk.” 

“No we don’t. I distinctly remember coming here so that I didn’t have to talk to anyone. I didn’t invite you.”

“No, you didn’t. You should have though. You think this is any way to be?” There’s a soft tone to Joe’s voice.

“I’m doing okay, Joe.”

“Okay isn’t living, Chris.”

Chris sighs. “Can we not talk about it, just this once? Please?” He looks up at Joe, meeting his gaze. Joe’s searching for something, Chris thinks. He’s not sure what he is hoping to find. Joe looks away, running a hand through his hair in a move that is so remarkably like Zach that Chris blinks. 

“Fine. We won’t talk about it. But we need to. I’m not leaving until we do.”

“Fine.” The silence stretches between them after that. Chris knows he’s being rude. This is Joe. He’s known Joe for almost as long as he’s known Zach. He owes him more than this. He breaks the silence. “I’ll show you around. There’s not much here, but it’s got charm.”

The afternoon passes quickly, the conversation mostly pleasant with only a few hiccups here and there. They avoid talking about Zach, about why Chris is here, and why Joe followed him. Joe updates him on LA, catches Chris up on the goss from the latest shoots Joe’s been working on. He has his camera and laptop here with him, and just a single change of clothes. Margo’s gone back home to Philadelphia. Chris feels guilt that he wasn’t there to see her off.

“She tried calling you a few times, you know,” Joe comments after Chris voices his regret.

“I, ah, I threw my cell into the lake,” Chris admits sheepishly.

Joe laughs. “Yeah, Katie told me. It made you a bitch to find. We actually had no idea if you’d still be here or if you’d move on.”

“What made you come look for me?”

“Thought you could use a friend.”

“I don’t think I have many of them left,” Chris admits.

“I think you have more then you realise. They’ve been giving you space. You silently screamed at everyone until they left you alone.”

“I thought it would be easier to deal with.”

They are sitting out on the back patio, the remains of dinner on the table. Joe has a glass of wine while Chris is making do with juice. It’s been nice having someone around, someone who Chris doesn’t have to pretend around. 

“Most people think it’s always easier to tackle on their own. It’s rarely the case,” Joe says.

“When did you get so wise?”

“When my little brother came and told me he thought he was in love with his co-star. It’s a bit of a sobering moment.”

“Huh, I can see that it would be,” Chris replies. He picks up his glass and takes a mouthful, then swirls the amber liquid around, thinking. “When was that?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Joe questions.

“He did. I guess, I just wanted to hear about it.”

“After her broke up with Jon. He called me and I had to talk him down from a ledge. It was so Zach though. He was an all or nothing person, and tempering that down and helping him through it was always my job.” Joe leans back in his chair, relaxing. “That started to become yours though, soon after that. He didn’t ask me for as many opinions.”

“I’m sorry,” Chris says softly.

“Don’t be. It was natural. I was actually happy for him. Even when you were just friends, it was nice Zach had someone he trusted that much. He didn’t have a lot of close friends.”

“Neither did I. I think that’s why we were draw to each other, originally.”

“You miss him,” Joe states.

Chris doesn’t answer that one. The fact he drove out here is a testament to how true that sentence is.

Joe continues, “I miss him too. And I rarely saw him since he was spending most of his time in New York of late.”

“He spoke of you. Had your photographs everywhere in the apartment,” Chris says.

“I know. It’s not quite the same any more.” 

“No. It isn’t.”

Chris feels calm, sitting here and talking with Joe. He hasn’t felt this calm in weeks. He hasn’t spoken this openly about Zach in weeks. Not since the funeral. He relishes it and doesn’t to do anything that could disturb it. He knows it’s only temporary. He fully realises he needs to go back to LA eventually. He doesn’t think he’s going to go back to work straight away. He needs a break. He needs to get used to being just Chris again. Needs to mourn without the pressure of work, without the pressure of the media examining his every move. He thinks he probably shouldn’t go back to LA, but if he keeps avoiding it, this is going to become his new normal. As much as he has enjoyed the quiet and enjoyed the calm, it’s not home. LA is the closest he will get to home now. When home used to be a person, can it go back to being a place?

“I received his death certificate. That’s what, I dunno, motivated the hermit status. It made it all real.”

“Real?” Joe asks quietly.

“Yeah. I know it was real, I can’t forget that, but official. He’s on the death register. It’s the key to a lot of paperwork. So yeah. Real.”

“I understand that. I didn’t want to believe it for a long time.”

Chris takes a breath. He hadn’t really thought about what Joe would have gone through. That he would have been suffering as well.

“I’m sorry you had to tell Margo,” Chris says, at a near whisper.

“I’m not. I wouldn’t have wished that on you, Chris. You had enough. I don’t know how you kept going.”

“I don’t know either.”

“I have something for you,” Joe says. He’s looking at Chris again.

“Yeah?” Chris replies.

“When we were all over for Zach’s birthday, I was taking photographs. I’ve given you some but I have more. I thought you might like them. As a reminder.”

Joe stands and puts his glass down before disappearing into the house. Chris hears him rummaging into the backpack, pulling unknown objects out. Noah comes over and nudges at Chris knee, demanding pats. Chris chuckles, scratching. Noah looks up at him with his big eyes, a look of pure bliss on his face.

Joe comes back out, holding a black portfolio. He sits down and hands it over to Chris. Chris unwinds the cord keeping the folder closed and opens it hesitantly. The first image is one he’s seen before. It’s black and white, and shows Chris and Zach standing, looking at each other. It’s the moment before Zach cut his cake, Zach laughing at something that Chris had said. Chris sees the look of open adoration on his face, captured perfectly by Joe’s camera. He turns the image, moving to the next one in the pile. This one is in colour. It’s a private moment, Chris and Zach standing in the kitchen, side by side. Chris is holding Zach’s hand, thumb resting on top of the ring on Zach’s left hand. Chris is talking in the image, caught mid-word while Zach is smiling softly.

He remembers that moment.

_“You’re serious about this? About coming with me after you’re done with the projects here?”_

_“Yeah. I miss you when you’re in New York. LA doesn’t feel like home.” He took Zach’s hand, rubbing his thumb gently across the back of his palm. “I love it here, of course. It’s just, you’re missing.”_

_“What about work? You’re Hollywood. You don’t really fit in with the Broadway style.”_

_He shrugged. “Hollywood can deal. I can still make films while based in New York. It will just be more on-location work. To be fair, I’d give it all up just become a kept man if it meant staying with you permanently.”_

_Zach smiled softly. “I love you. I honestly don’t know how I got here. You, loving me back, telling me that you’d give up all of this to move to New York. You hate the cold, and you’re still doing it.”_

_“This isn’t home when my heart is with you.”_

Chris flushes at the memories. He was sappier that night then he had been in a while. It was worth it, to surprise Zach on his birthday.

“Joe –” Chris’ voice is hoarse. He swallows, trying to coax moisture back into his dry mouth. “This. I can’t thank you enough.” 

“He would have wanted you to have them.”

Chris turns to the next image. It’s one of just Zach, sitting in one of the chairs in the garden, a look of peace on his face. The next, the same chair but Noah has his paws up on Zach’s legs in a position Chris is extremely familiar with. There are ten images in total, some colour and some black and white. Chris doesn’t realise he’s crying until Joe holds out the box of tissues. Chris didn’t even notice him leave to retrieve them.

He takes one, wiping at his face. He tries to control himself, taking deep breaths in and out. It’s not working. It’s like the images broke down the last of the walls Chris had up, like they found the chip in the dam and his emotions are now just flooding through. He thought he was past this, past crying. He stands up, placing the images down onto the table and turning to Joe and grabbing him into a hug. He feels Joe’s arms wrapping solidly around him, and he lets go.

* * *

**New York, 2013.**

It was a cold morning when Zach woke. There was soft grey light filtering through the drawn curtains, shining down over Zach’s face. He blinked before groaning and turning over. He reached an arm out to pull Jon close and came up on empty space. Zach frowned. That was strange. It was rare Jon woke up before Zach, especially on a Sunday. Zach sat up slightly, hand resting on Jon’s side. It was cold, and the sheets didn’t look disturbed. Zach was awake now. He blinked, trying to clear the early morning fog from his brain.

Zach looked around for his shirt and pants from the night before. He tugged them on before standing and running a hand through his hair. There was a chill in the air. He really needed to take a look at the heating. It had been on the fry for a few weeks, and Zach had been too busy to organise someone to take a look at it. He shuffled into the adjoining bathroom and ran some hot water to splash over his face. He paused, water dripping down from his chin.

He reached over and grabbed a towel to dry his face before he picked up his glasses from the counter and shoved them on. None of Jon’s creams or hair products are on the counter. His toothbrush was missing from the holder. Zach stood frozen to the spot, staring blankly. Why would they be missing? His heart sank. No. It couldn’t be. Zach did not want to believe it. He headed back out to the bedroom, crossing to the wardrobe. He yanked open the door. None of Jon’s shirts were hanging up. The section Zach had given to him was empty.

Zach stepped back, hand falling to his side. He turned, eyes not seeing the room. He took a deep breath and held it before letting it out again.

“It’s not what you think. Just. Calm down,” he muttered.

He ran a hand through his hair again. He knew it was a nervous gesture, knew it was just making his hair even more of a mess. Zach walked over and opened the bedroom door. Noah was curled up outside, and he lifted his head as the door opened. He stood up and stretched, shaking his body out before he moved over to Zach and demanded pats. Zach scratched behind his ears absent-mindedly. He continued down and into the living area. There were two bags next to the front door. Zach couldn’t drag his eyes away from them.

He heard movement in the kitchen while he was standing there. He turned on autopilot, crossing from the carpet onto the tiles. His feet felt like ice. The weight in his chest got heavier, expanding to take over all his muscles. Jon was standing there, fully dressed with his coat hanging over one of the bar stools set at the counter.

They stared at each other. Zach didn’t want to break the silence. He still couldn’t believe that this was happening. He prided himself on being a perceptive person. Sure, they had had a few more arguments than normal in recent times, but Zach did not think it had been that bad. They had celebrated New Year’s together only two days ago. Jon was smiling and happy. How had it changed so quickly?

Jon shuffled awkwardly, and reached up to scratch the back of his neck. “I didn’t expect you to be awake this early,” he said finally.

“So you were just going to leave instead?” Zach replied. He felt dead inside.

“No! No. I was just going to move my stuff. Then come back. I thought…it would be easier.”

“Oh,” said softly. He stood there, tugging at a loose thread from his flannel pants. “How…how long–” He cut off. “When?”

“When was I planning on leaving?”

Zach merely nodded.

“I was going to do it just after your play finished. But then, it…we got good again. I was happy,” Jon said. He was frank with his tone. “It wasn’t enough. I can’t do this any more. I have to think of myself.”

Zach did not know how to respond. He was an idiot. He should have seen it coming. How did he not see it coming? He always thought that people had to be blind to not see that a relationship was breaking down. Always made comments to others about how he predicted it ‘would be over within a month’. He never expected to be in the same position. The realisation was crushing.

“Why? I, I don’t understand.”

“Zach. We didn’t work. We haven’t worked for a while.”

“I love you. Is that not enough?”

Jon looked at Zach, a hint of pity on his face.

“No, it isn’t. You can love someone, and it still doesn’t work,” Jon said softly. He stepped forward then, coming around to stand in front of Zach. “We were on different pages. You were content, I wasn’t. I’m sorry. There was too much…other stuff.”

Zach bristled at that. He folded his arms over his chest and held himself tightly. “What do you mean, ‘other stuff’?”

Jon broke eye contact with Zach. “Just, stuff.”

“You owe me more then that.”

“I always felt like second place,” Jon said reluctantly.

“What?” Zach asked, dumfounded. He didn’t recall doing anything to make it seem like Jon wasn’t the most important person in his life. “How can you say that?”

Jon laughed dryly. “How can I say it? God Zach. Do you really want me to list it?” He didn’t let Zach respond before he continued, “I can say it because I felt it. Even when it was just us, it felt like you were comparing me to…someone else. When we were out with other people, you’d never spend time with me.”

Zach opened his mouth to answer, but Jon cut him off.

“No! Don’t even think about claiming otherwise. When we were good, we were great, but it was exhausting. You didn’t seem to care about _any_ of the concerns I had.” He paused then and looked up at Zach. “I’m not trying to mean. I do care about you. I did love you. It wasn’t enough.”

Zach nodded once, more out of reflex then in agreement. “I…I didn’t…” For someone who prided himself on his mastery of the English language, it was sure failing him right now. “I can’t be someone I’m not, Jon.”

“I know that. I’m not asking you to be. It doesn’t work that way.”

They stood there, only a few feet of tiles separating them. Jon dug a hand into his pocket, pulling out a key. He held it out to Zach.

“I was going to bring this back to you later, but this is better,” he said.

Zach took the key. He clutched his hand around it, the sharp edges digging into his skin. “Where are you going to go?” he asked.

Jon shrugged. “A hotel, friends, I don’t know. I’ll make do until I find a place.”

Zach nodded. “Okay. Okay then.”

Jon turned back to the counter, picked up his coat, and put it on. He pulled a hat down over his ears and wrapped a scarf around his neck. As he headed out of the room, Zach followed along behind. Jon picked up his bags, slinging one over his shoulder and pulling up the handle on the other. He paused at the door, turning back to Zach.

“Call Chris,” Jon said.

Zach snapped his head up, puzzled. “What?”

“Call Pine. He…don’t fall into a spiral, Zach. I know what you’re like. Chris can help. He always could,” Jon’s voice sounded slightly pained at the admission. “I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but you were always comparing me to him. I didn’t measure up.”

With that, Jon pulled open the door and made his way through. The door clicked shut behind him, disproportionately loud in the silent room.

\--

Zach didn’t call Chris. He did call Joe, eventually. He thought he was entitled to a few brooding days of not leaving the apartment and take out food. It probably would have gone on for longer if Joe didn’t snap him out of it.

“Jon leaving isn’t entirely a reflection on you, Zach,” Joe said gently. It was not the first time he had talked Zach down from a metaphorical ledge.

“Isn’t it?” Zach replied bitterly.

“There are two people in a relationship. From what I can gather, he gave up on it.”

Zach laughed, empty. “Yeah, because there was nothing left to believe in apparently. He had checked out months ago. I was the blind fool who didn’t see it.”

He was curled up on his sofa, a few half-consumed cups of coffee littered around in-between the dirty plates and cutlery that had build up. There were books and scripts lying around haphazardly, and Noah was curled up on the floor, staring up at Zach. He sighed and rolled over onto his back, flinging an arm over the side of the couch.

“Zach,” Joe warned.

“It’s not worth it. Why the fuck did I think it would be different this time? I screwed up, again. I don’t even know why I bother.”

“Not every relationship you have is destined to be the ‘one’,” Joe said. Zach could hear the implied air quotes and knew the look Joe would have on his face; infinitely patient and long suffering at the same time. They had been here on multiple occasions before. “You’ve lost someone, and it hurts. It probably will hurt for a while yet. There are memories built into the air, and they aren’t going to leave in a day. But you’ll keep going, Zach. There will be new projects, new people to meet, new friends. It doesn’t end here.”

“Why did you get to be the wise one?” Zach grumbled. He grabbed a fistful of hair, tugging at his scalp slightly.

“Someone had to have the rational brain to balance your creative one,” Joe replied.

“You’re a photographer.”

“Yes, but I’m not someone who pretends to be other people for a living. As the dramatic types go, that one’s all yours.”

Zach was quiet for a while after that. Noah came over and knocked into his fingers. He leaned over and scratched behind his ears absently. “Hey, Noah.”

“Noah’s there?” Joe asked.

“Yeah. He’s here. We’ve been out for walks.”

“That’s good, that’s really good.” There was a pause, and Zach could hear faint sounds of traffic in the background. “What can I do to help, Zach?”

Zach swung his feet around and off the sofa, and flexed them before standing up. Noah’s head followed the movement, looking almost hopeful.

“There’s nothing, Joe. No one can help. I just have to get through it,” Zach said.

“Zach,” Joe said, warning in his tone. “I have to go, but please, don’t be a stranger and don’t keep beating yourself up. I love you

“Yeah, yeah. Love you to. I’ll be fine.”

Zach hung up the call, pocketing his cell. He looked down at Noah and raised and eyebrow. “Keen to get out again, hey bud?”

Some time later, Zach had bundled into his trench coat and had managed to wrangle Noah out the door. He pulled his beanie down more firmly over his ears and fixed his scarf. It was cold out. More than Zach thought it would be. He hunched his shoulders and set off down their normal walking route. Noah was excited to be outside. He pulled at the leash, clearly not happy with Zach’s slow pace.

“Noah.”

Noah whined at Zach. That was new. He had Noah well trained, and it wasn’t often anymore that he pushed the boundaries. Noah waited until Zach caught up, then walked next to him. He let his thoughts wander, not really paying attention to anything around him. He’d been through breakups before, had watched countless friends go through them. He thought he was meant to be feeling more than he currently was, that he was meant to be angry and hate everything about Jon. He didn’t. He wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Zach and Noah had made it down and into Central Park quicker than he thought they would. He picked a bench on the edge of the Great Lawn and sat. Noah looked up at Zach for a moment before lying down next to his feet. He pulled out his cell, and opened up the photo gallery. He flicked through the photos. He wondered in how many of them Jon was only pretending to smile at him.

He sighed, tipping his head back. He needed to do something. He had too much pent up energy, and he knew that it would soon start to eat away at him if he didn’t find an outlet. His normal practice of a night on the town didn’t seem appealing. There were memories of Jon around every corner. The majority of the friends Zach had made in New York all knew Jon, and he didn’t think he was quite ready to deal with those questions.

He opened a blank text on his phone, thumb hovering across the screen. He scrolled to Chris’ name and added it to the message.

_Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea._

He deliberated over it for a moment before hitting send. It was less than five minutes before his cell lit up with an incoming phone call. He answered it and raised the phone to his ear.

“I didn’t take you for a Heinlein fan,” Chris said without any preamble.

Zach grinned. “No, but it’s right up your alley.” He stood up and gathered Noah’s lead so they could head back home.

“It’s one of the more obscure choices you’ve gone for.”

“Gotta keep trying until I stump you,” Zach replied.

“How did you even _know_ a Heinlein quote?” Chris continued, disbelief in his voice, “Please tell me you had to look that one up, because then by default I totally win.”

“Oh please, like I would resort to Google. You waxed on about him for hours during your Trek research. I looked him up after that.” Zach had made it out of Central Park by now and was contemplating whether he should head straight home or if he’d stop by the store and pick up something for dinner. “You get weirdly into your research at times, but that was an obscure link, even for you.”

“Whatever. I read Heinlein at Berkley. We go way back.”

“Apparently.”

“Hang on,” Chris said, sounding distracted. “Give me a second, Quinto.”

“Sure.”

Chris’ voice grew distant, the sounds becoming muffled. He tried to work out where Chris would be. He did not know what his schedule was like at the moment. They hadn’t spoken in a while.

“Hey sorry about that,” Chris was back on the line. “Coffee time.”

“Lamill?” Zach asked.

“Nah, I’m up with my parents. It’s their local place, and surprisingly, pretty good,” Chris replied.

“Hmmm. Debatable.”

“Here we go, the standards of Zachary Quinto,” Chris said. Zach could imagine the roll of his eyes that would have accompanied it.

“One of us has to.” Zach paused, debating. “When are you back in town?”

“Few days. Are you in?”

“No. Still in New York. But thinking of coming out for a bit.”

“Decided you need to thaw out and live like a normal human?” Chris asked, amused.

Zach chuckled. “Something like that.”

“Send me flight details, Zachary. Will you need a lift or has Jon got you?” The question took Zach by surprise. His brain just _stopped_. It took a while to realise that Chris had continued speaking. “…the other day. Seemed well. He got this really funny look on his face when I asked after you and then asked if I had heard from you. Which I hadn’t, obviously. Meant to call you earlier, but life you know.”

“You’re rambling, Pine.” Somehow Zach managed to sound like his normal self.

“Am I? Huh.”

“I’ll email you later,” Zach said, chuckling.

“Sure, dude. Just don’t land Wednesday morning, I have a meeting.”

“I’ll keep you posted.”

The line went dead. Zach pocketed his phone and looked down at Noah.

“Well. Looks like we are going to LA, Noah.”

\--

He deliberately picked a flight that would land during the busiest time of Thursday morning at LAX. Stacks of international flights were coming in, and the domestic terminals were also packed. He’d discovered it was actually easier to go unnoticed in a crowd than if it was empty. Of course, having a dog in tow made him more conspicuous than the average commuter. He head down to the curbside pick-up, relieved to see that Chris was already there and waiting.

He opened Chris’ trunk and stowed his one bag before opening the back door for Noah. Once he was settled, Zach opened the passenger door and slid in. Chris was grinning at him from the passenger seat.

“It’s good to see you, man,” Chris said. He reached over and grabbed Zach’s shoulder, squeezing once before letting go. He shifted the car into gear and pulled out into the traffic circling the pick-up zone of LAX.

“Likewise.”

Zach felt lighter than he had in days. Chris’ happiness was infectious. They chatted as Chris navigated his way up to Zach’s house, the drive taking the better part of a few hours to cross LA. This was one thing he didn’t miss. He rarely drove in New York, generally walking or catching a taxi if he had to. Manhattan was easier to get around without a car.

Chris pulled up outside of Zach’s house and jumped out to grab Noah. Zach wasn’t sure who was more excited to see whom. Chris scratched Noah’s ears and laughed as Noah licked his face.

“Oh I missed you too, buddy,” Chris said.

He stood up and followed Zach to the front door. Zach pulled out his keys and fished to find the right one. After he unlocked the door, he stepped back to let Chris pass. Zach looked around at the house. It was the same as he remembered. It had been months since he had been here. There was a layer of dust over most of the furniture. He dropped his keys down onto the table inside the hall, tugging the door closed behind him. He continued on, heading for the kitchen.

His eye caught on a piece of folded paper with a key sitting on top of it. He picked it up, holding the key and unfolding the note.

_I popped past when I got back in. I picked up a few of my things I left here. Also, the key. I thought this was easiest. Take care, Jon._

“So you’re in need of some serious cleaning. How long has it been, Quinto?”

Zach shoved the note into the pocket of his jacket, jerking his head up to see Chris leaning against the doorway, arms folded.

“Jesus, Christopher. You know better then to sneak up on me,” Zach said.

Chris laughed. “Yeah yeah. You were completely distracted. Like I was going to pass that up.”

“Asshole,” Zach shot back. It lacked his usual level of venom. He hoped Chris didn’t notice.

“What had your full attention, anyway? Takes a lot to surprise you.”

“Oh, uh nothing. Just…” He broke off, unsure how to tell Chris. He looked away for a minute before staring down at the tiles. “Jon left. He…we broke up.” Zach held the key up by way of explanation.

He looked up in time to see the realisation pass across Chris’ face. It was followed by a look of anger as Chris processed Zach’s words.

“Zach, I’m sorry. I had no idea,” Chris said. He stepped into the kitchen, then stopped a few paces away from Zach.

“Few days after New Year’s. Said he couldn’t do it anymore,” Zach said quietly. He still did not like to admit it out aloud.

“That _bastard_ ,” Chris said, indignant.

“It’s fine, Chris.”

“No it isn’t. How could someone do that to you?” Chris continued. He stalked away, arms waving as he emphasised his point. “The ‘I couldn’t do it anymore’ is one of the most pathetic excuses out there. If he ever actually cared for you, he wouldn’t have pretended for so long –”

Zach tried interrupting. “Chris”

“– and what a _jerk_ to even say that? I mean come on. He was probably just using you to get his name out there –”

“ _Chris_ ,” Zach snapped, finally getting Chris’ attention. “Don’t. I just, he had reasons, they were valid.”

“Really, Zach?” Chris questioned.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Zach said.

He didn’t want to tell Chris Jon’s reasons. He was still working through them himself. How did he tell Chris that the reason Jon left was because he thought Zach was in love with Chris? Which he wasn’t. He was not in love with his best friend. He had a mild crush that he got over years ago. It was not like he couldn’t function without Chris around. They had gone months without talking, and he hadn’t missed him. Much. Friends miss each other; that was normal. Sending random quotes to a friend because it was a game to try and catch the other out was normal. At least that was what Zach was constantly telling himself.

By this stage, Chris had walked over to the fridge and was unloading the bags he had brought in from the car.

“Fine. Don’t talk about it. I really don’t care,” he said, randomly placing items on the shelves. “Well, I do, but admitting that would give you gloating rights for weeks, and a heartbroken Zach I can deal with, but one with snark on a totally different level because he’s distracting himself, yeah I’m not as keen.” Chris closed the fridge door and turned back to Zach. “So please turn up on my doorstep and drag me to Lamill or something before the self-destructive streak sets in, okay?”

Zach was staring at Chris. He didn’t remember really having someone who would drop everything for him unconditionally. It gave him a warm giddy feeling, that Chris cared so much.

“No destructive streaks, got it,” Zach replied.

“Good,” Chris nodded before turning to head back out of the room. He stopped, catching a hand on the edge of the doorway and leaning back in. “Oh, I couldn’t remember exactly what brand it was you fed Noah, so I got a few. Give me a sec and I’ll bring them in.”

Chris disappeared around the door before Zach could respond. He stood there, staring at the spot Chris vacated. Chris bought dog food. Chris bought multiple brands of dog food because he couldn’t remember which one and he knew that the house had been empty for a while. Zach grinned, oddly touched. He wanted to throw his arms around Chris and kiss him.

“Shit,” Zach breathed.

The realisation dropped like a rock into Zach’s stomach.

He was in love with Chris.

His jaw dropped open slightly. The key slid from his hand and landed on the ground with a clatter. No. He was over this. He _had_ to be over this. Zach turned, hand resting on his hip while the other dragged through his hair. This is the worst possible time to come to this conclusion. He could hear Chris talking to Noah as he made his way back inside, bags in hand. He vaguely realised Chris was talking to him as he placed the food bags inside the cupboard. He couldn’t think through the muddle his thoughts had become. A lot of things clicked into place.

“Zach? Earth to Zach? Don’t make me go all Captain on you,” Chris had made his way around the counter and was waving a hand in Zach’s face.

“Huh, what?” Zach looked up, hoping to all hell that his face wasn’t showing any of his turbulent emotions. In that moment, he was actually jealous of Spock.

“Dude, you’re a million miles away,” Chris said, folding his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, sorry. Lost in thought.”

“Yeah I got that bit. Sure you don’t want to talk?” Chris asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nah, I’m good. Actually, tired. I didn’t sleep much last night. Might take a nap.”

“Sure, sure, Quinto. You can tell me to leave. I can handle that.”

“Damn, he saw through my plan.” Zach rolled his eyes, relieved that Chris hadn’t picked up that something was wrong.

Chris laughed, blue eyes sparkling. “I’ll let you get your beauty sleep. Call me sometime, okay?”

Chris walked over and clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a brilliant smile.

Oh god Zach was so fucked.

\--

Zach actually did have meetings to attend while he was in LA and did not see much of Chris for the two weeks he was there. There had been plenty of invitations, but Zach was still working through his personal revelation and wasn’t sure having Chris there in the flesh would be productive. He instead took the opportunity to catch up with Zoe for lunch, Kristen for coffee, and scheduled in as many Before the Door production meetings he could. He kept himself busy so he had actual reasons why he couldn’t catch up when Chris asked.

He knew he was avoiding Chris; he did this last time too. He had thrown himself into work as a distraction instead of working through his feelings. He had given Joe a call after Chris left and could barely get the words out. How could he have been completely blind on two fronts this entire time? Joe saying that he wasn’t surprised didn’t help Zach’s growing feelings of guilt over his time with Jon. He could see now how it would have been from Jon’s side.

He didn’t factor in Chris deciding to turn up on his doorstep a few days before he was due to fly back to New York.

“Chris,” Zach said dumbly once he wrenched open the door.

“You’re totally doing the ignoring thing again, so I foresee a destructive spiral about to happen,” Chris said by way of greeting, stepping past Zach and inside. “I’m here to stage an intervention.”

Zach sighed, closing the door behind him. “There’s no a destructive spiral, Pine.”

“Sure. Have you left the house since you got here?”

“Yes, actually. I’ve had meetings.”

“Oh…wait, voluntarily at other times where your presence wasn’t required?”

“Believe it or not, yes. Noah needed walking. I caught up with Zoe and Kristen. I’ve been out.”

“Huh,” Chris said. He was standing there, arms folded and examining Zach suspiciously.

“I’m not going to break, Christopher. I’ve worked through a few things.”

“Well. My excuse at butting in is completely invalid now. Were you planning on responding to any of my messages before flying out?”

“I thought about it,” Zach replied, knowing it would annoy Chris.

“I should be pleased you even _thought_ about it,” Chris said with a roll of his eyes. “Anyway, we’re totally doing the movie marathon thing and getting take out and staying up late.”

“Do I get a choice?”

“In the movie selection? Nope. I’ll let you choose the food though. You’re kind of a dick if it isn’t from somewhere you like.”

“I appreciate the idea of take out, but there are so many better options than tacos,” Zach replied.

Chris merely grinned. “Tacos man. You’re missing out.”

A few hours later, Zach was sprawled out on his couch, his legs stretched in front of him and a forgotten plate still resting on his lap. Chris was next to him, his own bowl on the coffee table out of Noah’s way and the neck of a beer bottle clasped lazily in his hand. Zach had made his way through a bottle of red and started on the second while Chris was well and truly buzzed from the few bottles he had brought with him. Zach was going to regret this when he had to get up in…well, four hours. Chris, the fucker, was still looking way too put together for having consumed so much.

Zach was drunk, well past the pleasant buzz stage. He had to keep himself occupied with something, with Chris sitting so close. It was taking all of his remaining faculties to not reach over and _snuggle_ into him. He could feel the heat coming from Chris, and it wasn’t helping in his current inebriated state. He took another gulp from his glass, shifting in his seat and tipping his head back, breathing deeply. Captain America was playing the background, both of them way beyond actually paying attention.

“Why are we watching this?” Zach asked.

“Because everyone can appreciate Evans in this. So many ab shots. Did he get that written into his contract?” Chris replied.

Zach made a noncommittal noise. “You’re just bitter because he got it and you didn’t.”

“Psh, hardly,” Chris said. “Anyway, I beat him out for Kirk.”

“Some would say that isn’t winning.”

“Totally is. I would never have been suited for that.” He nodded towards the screen.

“You’re selling yourself short, princess. I’ve seen you without a shirt and you’re-” Zach broke off, realising what he was about to finish that sentence with the words _fucking gorgeous_. He clapped a hand over his mouth.

Chris was looking at him, a grin on his face. “What was that, Quinto? My stomach distracts you?”

“Fuck you, Pine.”

“If you were that keen to see it all you had to do was ask,” Chris continued, stretching so that the hem of his shirt deliberately rose up.

Zach almost couldn’t drag his eyes away from that patch of skin. He wanted to press his hand to Chris skin and force his shirt up further. He forced himself to look away and sit up, breathing deeply.

“Fuck you,” Zach repeated.

“Need a moment?”

Zach growled and flipped Chris off. He stood, picking up the empty bottle, and then headed for the kitchen. He dumped the bottle into the sink to deal with later and braced his hands across the edge of the counter. He took a deep breath before picking his glass back up and heading back out to Chris.

Chris had taken the opportunity to stretch out across the entire couch.

“Really, Christopher?”

Chris raised an eyebrow in response.

Zach rolled his eyes before lifting up Chris’ legs and sitting down, letting them drop back on top of him. Chris shifted, getting comfortable. Zach did not know what to do with his hands. He didn’t like feeling unsure. He settled for resting one across Chris’ legs, the other across the back of the couch.

He didn’t remember falling asleep. He woke to the menu screen repeating itself, the sound system having switched off a while ago. He was aware of a warm presence at his front, that his arm was wrapped around something solid. He blinked, trying to recall how he had ended up here. It was fuzzy, like swimming through molasses. The presence in his arms shifted, moving backwards and sighing.

Zach froze. He was wrapped around Chris. He was snuggled up to Chris. The temptation to just close his eyes and go back to sleep was huge. When was he going to get another opportunity like this? On some level, Zach knew it was wrong to take advantage of a situation when Chris wasn’t aware of it, but a moment wouldn’t hurt, would it?

He leant forward, nuzzling at the back of Chris’ neck, brushing the short hairs there. He inhaled deeply. Chris smelled like Zach remembered. Earthy and rich, with a faint aroma of coffee. Ever so softly, Zach pressed his lips to the skin there.

No. He couldn’t let himself do this. He drew back. He was meant to be building a wall back up, not adding to the memories that would torture him when he was alone. Zach squeezed his eyes closed. As much as he wanted this, he couldn’t let himself be consumed by it. Chris had taken more than he realised, and he needed to stop it. Chris wasn’t his and he wouldn’t have Chris when he went back to New York.

Zach shifted, letting go of Chris and drawing his arm back. At least he tried to. Before he could begin to lever himself out, Chris turned and wrapped his arm around Zach, burying his head in Zach’s chest. Chris mumbled, words too faint to make out. Well. This wasn’t going to plan. Zach settled back down, placing his arm back around Chris. Chris sighed, a soft smile on his face. He moved closer, pressing a leg between Zach’s.

Well, at least he could say he tried to do the right thing. Zach closed his eyes. One night isn’t going to hurt.

* * *

**Three Months On.**

Chris is sitting on the floor of his bedroom, back against the wall and legs spread out in front of him. An empty coffee mug is on the floor next to him, and he’s cradling his guitar in his hands. His head tips back against the wall, eyes softly closed while he gently plucks out a melody. He’s not sure what song he’s trying to play. It doesn’t really resemble anything that he knows. It’s slow, in the minor key, dancing around the upper register. Chris finds he’s pulled out the guitar more often in the last few weeks. He likes the noise filling up the silence. It makes it feel less empty.

Chris sighs and opens his eyes. It’s mid-morning, the light streaming in through the open window creating shadows across the room. The bed isn’t made. Without Zach there to gripe at him, it hasn’t been made in a few days. He knows he needs to get to it soon. He has to go into reshoots for _A Thousand Words_ soon, and he wants to try to be somewhat organised before it. He’s catching up with Daisy later in the day for coffee. Since he made it back to LA, Daisy checks up on him every so often. Chris knows why she does it, knows that she speaks to Katie as well. It doesn’t bother him as much as it used to. Maybe he’s healing. Who knows?

He starts in the bathroom. That is easier to deal with. He keeps Zach’s body wash. The scent is attached to too many memories. Most of everything else is packed up into a box to be donated. The bottles that are close to empty and not worth keeping are thrown into a garbage bag. The bathroom bench is empty in comparison. The few things left of Chris’ look out of place.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, drawing him out of his thoughts. He pulls it out, swiping it open. There’s a message from Olivia.

_Are you sure don’t want help today?_

Chris ran into her a few days ago. He’d mentioned that he was planning on going through everything today. Of all his exes, Olivia was one of the few he kept in contact with. Chris taps out a reply.

_Nah, I’m okay. Haven’t started yet. Daisy is checking in later._ He pauses, and then adds to the message. _Thanks for checking._

He hits send and pockets the phone. He turns back to the machine picking up the coffee. Noah’s at his parents’ place, and Chris’ misses him more than he thought he would. He just needs to get through this without having Noah hovering. He heads back to the bedroom and pauses just outside the door. He takes a deep breath before stepping across the threshold.

He starts in the bathroom. That is easier to deal with. He keeps Zach’s body wash. The scent is attached to too many memories. Most of everything else is packed up into a box to be donated. The bottles that are close to empty and not worth keeping are thrown into a garbage bag. The bathroom bench is empty in comparison. The few things left of Chris’ look out of place.

Chris makes his way over to the closet, switches the light on, and pulls open the doors. It’s a large closet, and one Chris never thought he would see full when he bought the house. Sure, there was an idle dream that maybe one day, but he didn’t expect it to turn out the way it did. He was thankful for it later, when Zach ended up spending more time at Chris’ than at his own place. Then later, when Zach moved in permanently and sold his place, it seemed like the closet was made for both of them. Chris’ side is an eclectic mix of shirts and pants jammed together in no real order. Zach’s is neat and organised into categories.

He runs his hand over the shirts, catching the fabric between his fingers. There are memories attached to all of these. There’s the faded red flannel that Zach would wear when he was sick, claiming it was softer than all the others. There’s the purple and mauve check dress shirt that he wore on their first official public date. There’s that ridiculous hoody he liked to wear and pull over his head. Chris pulls that one off its hanger, holding the fabric up to his face and inhaling. Everything still smells like Zach. One of the reasons he has been hesitant to go through Zach’s clothes is that he doesn’t want the scent to fade. He wants to preserve it as much as possible. Chris wishes there was a way it could be bottled up and stored. It’s part of every memory that feels like home, and Chris is afraid of what will happen when it stops smelling that way.

He used to think it was ridiculous when people commented on missing someone by their smell. He hadn’t really noticed how it had become part of his unconscious thoughts. The loss of Zach highlighted how much his views had changed.

Chris folds the sweatshirt up and walks over to place it into the keep box. There are fewer items in there than Chris thought there would be. A few of Zach’s button downs that are Chris’ favourites, a small pile of t-shirts, Zach’s beanies. Most of his general clothes are in the donate pile. The grey suit Zach wore when they got married is still in the closet, along with a few other ones. Chris can’t get rid of it.

He looks around the room, gripping one arm around his chest and biting on the thumb of his other hand gently. He’d hung up the images Joe had given him on the wall with the images from their wedding. There’s not much spare space left anymore. He wonders if he should take them down, if it’s too much. Is having a constant reminder of what you lost the best way to heal?

Chris feels like he’s starting that process. There are still days where he doesn’t get out of bed, where he just lies with Noah and stares at the wall. To be honest, there are more days that he doesn’t get out of bed than ones where he does, but he’s working on that. He turns from the wall, takes a deep breath, and picks up the donate box to take it out into the living room. It joins a few others there. Some of it is Chris’ stuff that he figures he’ll get rid of at the same time. It hurts less if he thinks of it as spring-cleaning. He can pretend that Zach is there with him, lounging in the study and steadfastly refusing to help because it’s a stupid custom and why is spring the season cleaning has to be done in anyway?

He goes into the study next. It’s a mess. Zach didn’t tidy it before he left for New York. Why would he when he thought he was coming back? Chris sighs, pulling out Zach’s chair and sitting down. He starts with the pile of scripts, boxing them up to send back to Zach’s agent. He pulls open the drawers under the desk and takes out some of the files to check through. A single sheet of paper falls out of one of them and floats down to land on the ground.

Chris bends to pick it up, recognising Zach’s handwriting. He glances over the text.

_Chris,_

He freezes upon seeing his own name, the files in his other hand at risk of falling out of his hand. He sets them down blindly, turning back to the paper in his hand. He doesn’t recognise it.

_Chris,_

_I know you think this was just a stupid conversation we had late one night when we had consumed too much, but it wouldn’t leave my head until I decided to do something about it. I hope you never have to read this, because in an ideal world we both pass away as old men in the same bed Notebook style. I’m also fully aware of how much of a sap that makes me, but it’s part of the dream that we never really talk about. (We do need to talk about it.)_

Chris remembers the conversation. They had come back to Zach’s after Leonard Nimoy’s funeral. Zach had been closer with Leonard than Chris was and his passing had hit him hard. He didn’t realise Zach had remembered that conversation. He didn’t remember Chris getting him to bed, or how he had got home from the wake. Chris is taking shallow breaths, his hand shaking as he reads the rest of the page.

_If you are reading this, then you’ve found where I hid it. I’m hoping that I’m actually still alive and you’re just being a snoop, but I know the more realistic reason you’re reading this is that you are going through my study because I’m no longer here to do it. If it’s the first, you fucker. If it’s the second, then you need to know a few things. The most important being that I love you. I have loved you for longer than I cared to admit, and I think I will go on loving you for the rest of my life._

_I didn’t believe a ‘love of your life’ was a thing that existed, and I know you didn’t either. I know the whole ‘we’re not whole unless we have another’ trope is a pet peeve of yours. But there’s some truth to it. You complement me in so many ways, and lend me your strength when I don’t believe in myself._

A tear splashes onto the corner of the page. Chris rubs angrily at his eyes before dabbing at the paper. He can’t ruin this. He needs to preserve it. He’s choking on his breaths. He tips his head back, trying to control them. He wants to tell Zach that he believes in it all now. The reminder that he can’t rips open the barely healed wounds. There’s a stabbing pain in his chest. The phrase ‘dying from a broken heart’ actually seems like it’s possible in that moment.

_I know that right now you probably feel like you can’t do this. That without me, you don’t have a base to be strong too. That isn’t true, Christopher. You have always been the stronger of the two of us. You’ve personally overcome so many challenges. Remember that day, during the press for ST Beyond, that we were in Hyde Park? We’d skipped out on everyone with a free afternoon and blown it all being tourists and not caring if we got caught? We were sitting there, and you took my hand like it was nothing and then didn’t let go? I asked what made you change your mind. I still remember it like yesterday when you said that you’ve never been more sure of something in your life. I remember the day you stormed into Paramount to make your intentions clear. When you said you were tired of being careful and to fuck it all, that you’d damn well make sure you wouldn’t appear on a ‘Top Ten Most Eligible Bachelors’ list ever again (side note, they always choose the best photos for those lists. I kept a scrapbook)._

_I’m getting off the point. The thing is, you can do this. I am sorry I’m not there to see it through with you. But don’t let this take away your light, Chris. You have too much to offer and the world needs a little sunshine. Don’t fade away and forget to live._

_Z x_

_P.S. Noah is still not allowed up on the bed._

Chris chokes out a laugh. Trust Zach to make the last word about Noah. Even when he’s not here, Zach still knows what Chris needs. Chris hunches over, staring at Zach’s handwriting. He’s ugly crying, and knows that it’s not attractive. His nose is running, and he’s trying not to get it everywhere.

“I miss you, Zach,” Chris says. He knows Zach can’t hear, but he likes to pretend that he can. He doesn’t believe in heaven and hell, but if there’s a place after where those who are departed keep watch on the living, then he hopes Zach can hear him.

\--

Chris is out of sorts for the rest of the afternoon. He finishes packing up the office and stores the boxes in the living room. Corey is coming over in the next few days to collect them and take them back to the offices. The study is empty; the space feels larger than it is. Chris reorganises his possessions to fit the space more fully. He takes the time to add in some extra frames to the wall with the last few Playbills of Zach’s. Zach started the project before he went back to New York and never finished it. The wall is a mishmash of movie stills and press photos. It’s a collection of their work.

He’s sitting there lost in thought when the doorbell rings. He starts, not realising how much time had passed. He makes his way to the door and pulls it open. Daisy is on the other side, smiling softly.

“Hello Chris,” she says.

“Hey, uh, sorry, give me two minutes and I’ll be ready,” Chris replies.

Daisy holds her hands up in a placating gesture. “No hurry. I’m early anyway.”

They step inside, Chris leaving Daisy in the hallway while he dashes to the bedroom to change his shirt. He grabs a jacket and is about to head out, but he hesitates and moves to the open box. He pulls out Zach’s beanie, running the fabric through his hands before jamming it on his head. He thinks he probably looks ridiculous, but he could use the comfort. He grabs his Ray Bans off the shelf and heads back out to Daisy.

“All set?”

“Yeah, yeah, good to go,” he says.

Chris locks up behind them and they head to Daisy’s car. They are heading to Chris’ favourite taco restaurant, a little hole in the wall place that doesn’t have a lot on the menu but does it well. The owners are used to seeing Chris and Zach there and greet him warmly when he and Daisy arrive. Chris selects a table towards the back from habit, making sure his back is to the rest of the room. They both order and settle in to wait for food to arrive.

The conversation is light. Daisy updates Chris on how everyone has been. She’s gone back to London since filming ended and caught up with her family. Chris nods along, content to let Daisy do most of the talking. The sound washes over him and helps dull the memories slipping to the surface.

_“A taco place? Really Pine? Of all the places you could have taken me to, I didn’t expect a taco place to come with the recommendation of ‘the best food in LA’.” Zach’s voice was petulant._

_“Quinto, have I ever steered you wrong before?” Chris fired back._

_“Let me count the ways,” Zach started._

_“Shhh, just enjoy the taco-y goodness.”_

Zach had eventually admitted how delicious they were and sneakily found ways to convince Chris to come here more often. It became their spot for a late night bite to eat after filming and award shows. It was often the takeaway spot of choice for when they didn’t feel like cooking and even though they didn’t technically deliver, Chris had long ago sweet-talked the owners into a special deal.

It takes Chris a while to realise Daisy has fallen silent and is watching him. He blinks, trying to recall the last thing she said.

“I…I’m sorry I have no idea what you’ve said,” he says. He shrugs his shoulders, apologetic. “I’m not entirely with it.”

“It’s okay. I figured you’d be a little out of it,” Daisy says gently. She reaches over and squeezes Chris’ hand. “How did it all go?”

Chris nods, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

“Mostly good, yeah.” He pauses, fiddling with the fork in his hand. “Got the clothes done. I’m going to donate most of them once Margo grabs what she wants.”

“You kept some, yeah?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t get rid of it all. It…it smells like him, still.”

“Smells like home,” Daisy murmurs.

“Comforting. It sounds silly, but it helps me feel like he’s still there, somehow,” Chris says softly.

He debates for a moment, considering if he should share that Zach left a letter. He is torn between wanting to keep it close and etch it into his soul and sharing the memories, so that someone else knows and can remind him when he forgets.

“I cleared the study out too,” he continues. “Lots of scripts and Before the Door stuff. No point me keeping it.”

“How are they doing?”

“Full steam ahead. They were right in the middle of getting a few projects off the ground, so they haven’t really had the time to take a break. Corey’s coming around in a few days.” Chris shrugs. “I put a few photos up. Not sure if that’s a good thing or not.”

“It depends I guess,” Daisy says, contemplative. “Are they helping or harming?

“Dunno yet. Time will tell, I guess,” Chris replies, scratching at the back of his head. He puts his napkin down pushing his plate away. He crosses his arms on the edge of the table, drumming his fingers.

“Oh for the love of –” Daisy starts before breaking off and swearing under her breath.

Chris looks up, trying to work out what was wrong.

“Daisy?”

“The fucking paps are outside. I forgot how bad they are here,” she says, scowling towards the front door.

Chris feels the blood drain from his face. He swallows, looking down and clenching his fist. He’s managed to avoid them since making it back to town, even on the few outings he made.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

“Do you want to wait? Hope they leave?” Daisy asks.

“No. I don’t want to give them that pleasure. And anyway, more will just come,” Chris says, shaking his head.

There’s a buzzing in his head. His thoughts feel muffled, as if he is fighting through quicksand to stay above everything, except it isn’t sand and mud pulling him down but the beginnings of anger and outrage.

“Okay, okay. I’ll go pay and then we can work out a game plan.”

Chris sits there, clenching and unclenching his hand. He doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, doesn’t realise he’s torn the napkin on the table either. He doesn’t hear Daisy come back over and jumps when she places a hand on his shoulder.

Once they step outside, they are immediately battered with questions and comments.

_“Chris, you haven’t been seen in LA for the last two months. Where have you been hiding out?”_

_“Pine, is it true that Zach was under the influence when he was in the accident?”_

_“How are you doing without Zach around?”_

Daisy grabs Chris arm, nails digging into his skin.

“Ignore them Chris. It isn’t worth it,” Daisy says, striding off in the direction of their car, Chris trailing behind her.

He can’t think. He supposes the grace period the paps gave him has worn off. They are more brutal then he remembers. There’s a haze of anger across his vision. His whole body is rigid and taut, like a rubber band stretched too thin.

“They can’t say that,” Chris fumes.

His jaw was set in a harsh line, the clicking of cameras still around them.

_“Chris, Chris, this way!”_

_“So when are you going to get back out there?”_

Chris is used to being harassed. He’s long since come to terms with it. What he didn’t anticipate was the line of questioning they were about to attempt next.

_“Are you two hooking up? Couldn’t even wait – ”_

Chris doesn’t let the guy finish the sentence before he wrenches his arm free from Daisy to turn and find the photographer, grabbing the guy and punching square in the face. He’s vaguely aware of Daisy calling his name and a hand grabbing the back of his jacket.

He can’t _think_.

When he comes to his senses a while later, he’s sitting down on a set of steps, nursing his hand in his lap and vaguely realising how much punching someone actually hurts. Surprisingly, it’s a first for him. Daisy is nearby, talking into her phone and gripping the arm of the photographer Chris punched. He has a bloody nose and definitely came off the worse end of the stick.

Chris can’t even bring himself to care that he might have just got himself into trouble. It was worth it. The other photographers have mostly cleared off, a few still hanging around to see what is going to happen. Good, he thinks. Maybe next time they won’t be so quick to mess with him.

_They only mess with you because you give them a reaction, princess_.

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. Zach’s not real. It’s just a voice he is conjuring in times of stress.

“…are we agreed on that?”

Chris opens his eyes to the pap nodding at Daisy. She’s staring the photographer down, her dark eyes intimidating. The size difference between Daisy and the pap is amusing, and despite Daisy being physically smaller, Chris can’t help but be reminded of a child being reprimanded by a teacher.

“Good. We’ll be in touch.”

Daisy lets go of the photographers arm, and he all but scrambles to get away. She comes over and sits down on the step next to Chris. They sit there in silence, not looking at each other.

Daisy eventually breaks it. “Feel better?”

“Surprisingly, yeah.”

There’s another pause, before Daisy starts laughing. It’s full, open laughter, warming the space around them. Chris can’t help but grin.

He chuckles before saying, “Remind me to never get on your bad side. Damn you’re scary. What did you get them to agree to?”

“Ohhh wouldn’t you like to know,” she replies vaguely, still laughing. “How’s the hand?”

“Fucking hurts,” Chris said frankly. “No one warns you that actually hitting someone hard enough to break a nose also risks breaking your own hand.”

“Wait, you’re telling me you’ve never thrown a punch?” Daisy glances over, disbelief on her face.

“I know how to throw a punch. I’ve thrown them on set in stunts, but that’s different, apparently. Less damage,” Chris says.

“Speaking of damage, how bad is that hand?” Daisy reaches over to take it, stretching out Chris’ fingers. Chris hisses, jerking it back slightly. “Do I need to take you somewhere?”

Chris shakes his head. “Nah, I have a first aid kit at home. It’s not broken, I don’t think.”

“Yes, Doctor Pine,” Daisy says, rolling her eyes. She stands up, holding a hand out to pull Chris up. “For the record, next time consider not punching. It will hurt less, you idiot.”

* * *

 

**Berlin, 2013.**

They had landed from Russia late the previous day. No one felt like going out that evening and everyone had crashed pretty early. They had a full day of press and photocalls lined up and there was a vague plan to head out the next evening. Everyone took the opportunity to catch up on some much needed sleep.

Zach ran into an almost comatose Chris in the breakfast room the next morning, slumped over the table and hands clutched around a mug of coffee. Zach smiled to himself, grabbing a plate. He loaded up with some extra toast, opting for juice rather than coffee. He placed his plate down opposite Chris and pulled the chair out.

“Long night?” he asked.

He got a glare in response.

Zach laughed. “Didn’t catch up on sleep then?”

“No,” Chris replied, sullen.

“Seriously Pine? What happened to those declarations of ‘man, the only thing I’m doing tonight is passing out on my bed’ from yesterday?”

“They vanished when I realised I was close to finishing the book I was reading,” Chris replied. He sighed, staring down at his mug before taking a large mouthful.

“Wow,” Zach said, sitting back and grinning. “The wild times of Christopher Pine.”

“If you sell out, you’re splitting half the funds with me.”

“Fuck off. They will all be mine, and Perez Hilton will erect a monument in my name,” Zach said. He dug into his breakfast, still chuckling. Chris reached over to snag a piece of toast, Zach swatting at his hand half-heartedly. “What were you reading, anyway?”

“A Visit from the Goon Squad,” Chris replied. He paused, swallowing his mouthful before continuing, “Jennifer Egan. Won the Pulitzer a while back. I’ve had it for ages but just haven’t gotten around to reading it.”

“Any good?”

“It’s fantastic. There’s this thread of melancholy about the past, and fate cruelly being robbed from people,” Chris said. He was suddenly more animated than before, his whole being focused. He sat up straighter, placing down the mug to free up his hands. “It follows multiple characters and does incredible things with passing of time. You have these…I think it’s eleven or twelve?...characters who all interact without being part of the one story. It’s all interrelated. It mirrors the way you can pass total strangers on the street who may be best friends with someone you know, who is the assistant to your sister, and yeah. It’s fantastic.”

This was the Chris that Zach adored seeing and the one that Hollywood liked to ignore. Chris came alive when he was talking about literature. He could have easily gone on to complete a PHD if the acting thing had fallen through. It was part of the reason Zach jumped into word games with him at any given chance. Chris’ intellect was always stimulating. It had reached another level on this tour. The flirting had also increased to new heights. Zach was hoping he wasn’t imagining it all – the lingering looks, the excessive touches. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but he did not want to stop.

“Huh, it’s been awhile since you’ve given a novel that much praise,” Zach said.

Chris tipped his head to the side, considering. “Well, I wouldn’t really call it a novel. More a collection of short stories that are all connected.” He leaned forward to steal another piece of toast.

“I’m going to start charging. Not your butler, Christopher.”

“Pssh, you always get extra ‘cause you know I’m going to steal it,” Chris said, leaning back with a grin. “Are you still doing that no coffee thing?”

Zach looked down at his juice, forlorn. Chris laughed in response.

“Dude, your funeral. You’re going to be kicking yourself tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“It’s Berlin. We’re totally going out. Best clubs in the world, man,” Chris replied, standing. “They also have us teamed up for interviews again.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Is everyone heading out?” Zach said, jumping back to what Chris had said earlier.

“I assume so. Zoe’s organising. She has ‘ _connections’_.” Chris raised his hands to do the air quotes.

Zach rolled his eyes. “Of course. Wouldn’t miss a night Zoe’s organised.”

Chris stood, pushing his chair back. “I need more coffee. And a shower. Plus something a lot stronger, but I think JJ would have an aneurism if he found out I’m about to go into this circus on only two hours sleep.”

“He’s on edge enough as it is. Please don’t push him. I don’t need another four a.m. phone conference because he’s forgotten about time difference,” Zach said frankly.

“Me neither, Quinto. Me neither. Though catching you in flannel and those slippers was worth breaking down your door.”

“Fuck off, princess.”

Chris laughed and moved around the table and reached a hand out to ruffle Zach’s hair. “See you soon, Zachary.”

Zach glowered. He’d only just got his hair to cooperate. Bastard.

\--

Zoe glided straight past Zach when he pulled open the door.

“Why yes, do come in Ms Saldana, don’t wait for permission,” Zach said sarcastically as he closed the door.

“Darling, like you weren’t going to let me in,” Zoe replied, heading straight for the mini bar and opening it to check the selection. “Why are you not dressed?”

Zach raised an eyebrow. “It’s like, 9 p.m. It’s Berlin. Nothing happens before midnight.”

“Duh, there’s a bar in the lobby. I won the honour of coming to retrieve you.”

“What, you beat Chris?”

Zoe grinned, closing the bar and standing back up. It was lethal, and Zach was glad he wasn’t present for that…discussion. He knew how competitive Zoe could be. He almost felt sorry for Chris.

“How’s he holding up, anyway?” Zach asked.

“What do you mean?” Zoe replied.

“He only had two hours sleep last night. And he’s consumed way too much caffeine to be considered safe.”

Zoe raised an eyebrow, a sly look on her face. “How do you know he only had two hours sleep? Did you have something to do with that?”

Zach spluttered, turning red. “ _What_? No! I…he told me at breakfast this morning.”

Zoe laughed. “Gotcha. How long have you been wishing he was in your bed?” she said, waggling her eyebrows.

Zach glared at Zoe and refused to answer. He turned and stalked into the bedroom area of his suite. Zoe’s continued laughing could be heard from the other room. He wasn’t that transparent. Goddamn Zoe and her intuition for pushing until Zach told her. Until he admitted the real reason he and Jon had broken up. She was one of the few who knew, and also knew about his revelation after.

He pulled a shirt and jeans out of his suitcase and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him in case Zoe decided to check he was getting changed. He attempted to tame his hair back into its normal style and replaced his glasses. Once he was finished, he went back into the bedroom and picked up his jacket from the end of the bed before re-joining Zoe.

“Better?” he asked.

“Mmmm. That colour is good on you,” Zoe replied.

The shirt was a deep wine colour, almost purple, with a faint black check running through it. He had the collar buttoned to the top and was teaming it with the black jacket he had worn earlier in the day.

Zoe continued, “Pine is going to love it.”

Zach’s heart skipped a beat, and he forced himself to calm down. He rolled his eyes, hoping it came across as his normal nonchalance. He wasn’t dressing to try and get Chris to notice him. That would be stupid. “Please. I don’t make every choice with him in mind. Besides, we are in Berlin, and he’s straight and more than likely will find the hottest blonde in the room and make off with her.”

“Ignorance doesn’t suit you.”

“Not ignorance, babe, just honesty,” Zach said, grabbing his key card and wallet off the table and pocketing them.

“Chris couldn’t keep his eyes off you today. If you haven’t realised, he’s barely looked at anyone else since this tour started.”

Zach walked over to the door, pulling it open and waiting for Zoe. “Wishful thinking,” he said. “He’s straight, dating that model, and we’re just friends who hang out with each other occasionally.”

“They broke up. You know that,” Zoe replied, looking at Zach with a hint of pity.

“Only a matter of time until someone replaces her.”

“As I said, ignorance doesn’t suit you.”

\--

Zach had been acutely aware of Chris being pressed to his side on the taxi ride over from the hotel. They were all pleasantly buzzed when they had left the bar in the lobby. He had all but tackled Simon out of the way when they were getting in. Alice had been on his other side, while Zoe and Simon had taken the second taxi.

The club was pulsing with sound and energy when their group arrived. Everything was heightened, from the smell of the air, to the throng of bodies on the dance floor. They quickly snagged one of the tables in the outside area, and Simon and Chris disappeared off to fetch another round of drinks. The place was unlike any Zach had been in before. The lighting gave the abandoned soap factory an otherworldly quality, like they were in a liminal space bridging before and after, only he wasn’t too sure what the after was yet. The sounds washed over Zach, a mix of German, English, Italian, and other dialects that whirled together to create a vibrating soundscape, egged on by the ever-changing music.

Chris and Simon made their way back to the table and handed off the drinks to Zoe and Alice. Chris made his way around to Zach and leaned up against the table, passing over the glass.

“What did you get?” Zach asked, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the noise.

“I don’t even know,” Chris all but shouted back. He leaned forward, speaking directly into Zach’s ear. “They refused to speak English, so in all honesty, I have no idea.” Chris grinned. “Drink up, Zachary.”

Zach shivered as Chris’ breath tickled his skin. He took the glass from Chris and did as instructed.

“God,” Zach choked out once he could breathe again.

Chris laughed and turned around to drag over a chair, then slid onto it. “Worth it?”

Zach nodded. Whatever it was, it had a kick to it. “Jesus. We aren’t going to need many of them.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Alice leaned over and cut in. “Weak, the pair of you. Here I was lead to believe you American boys had a higher tolerance than us Poms.”

“Oh god, we do not need this to come up again,” Zoe added. “The last time Simon challenged Pine to a drinking contest I think JJ was all but ready to fire them when they turned up with a hangover on set.”

“Damn right he was,” Simon said proudly.

“Except JJ isn’t here, and we have nothing but press tomorrow. Please, I’ve done worse,” Chris gloated.

“No, Pine. I am not putting up with a sleep-deprived and hung-over princess in interviews. Today was bad enough,” Zach said, a look of horror on his face.

“You are just pissed I still whooped your ass at the wordplay. I am so going to win this time around,” Chris said.

“Not this again,” Simon said, shaking his head. “Will you two give it a rest?”

“Not until Quinto admits I am superior,” Chris said.

“Over my dead body, Pine.”

“That can be arranged.”

“Your funeral.”

“No, yours actually.”

“Touché.”

Zach reached a fist out, and Chris bumped his knuckles against it. The looked away from each other to see Zoe, Alice, and Simon all staring at them with matching incredulous looks on their faces.

“Get a room already, would you?” Alice said, rolling her eyes and going back to her drink.

“What?” Chris asked weakly, the tips of his ears going pink.

Huh. Interesting. Zach couldn’t drag his eyes away from the patch of skin at the back of Chris’ neck, which had turned red as well. He wanted to run his fingers across it and feel the warmth he knew was there. He turned away, grinning.

“You’re going down, Pine. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Conversation flowed from that point. Zoe and Alice left to check out the dance floor inside, and their chairs were quickly claimed. Simon and Chris were comparing favourite spots in London, with Zach interjecting every so often with comments on New York. He made a mental note of the ones Chris seemed to take interest in in case he ever came to visit.

Zach took his phone out to snap a few pictures, wanting to capture the aesthetic. He deliberated over posting one to his instagram account. He knew what image to use, but couldn’t decide what to caption it as. Simon had just left when he turned to Chris.

“Christopher, I need a caption,” Zach drawled, holding out his phone.

Chris took it, delighted. “You’re letting me craft one of your uber hipster posts?”

Zach shrugged. “Got to give them something.”

“It’s an honour, dude. Hmm,” Chris replied distractedly. He stared intently at the phone before tapping on a few keys. He handed it back to Zach.

He glanced down at the message Chris had typed.

_comrades in arms._

Zach liked it. He clicked post before pocketing the phone. He picked up his empty glass, nodding to Chris’. “I’m going to grab another one of whatever this is. You want one?”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Zach left Chris by the table and headed over to the bar. It took a while to be served, and he wasn’t surprised. It was pushing 2 a.m. and the peak of the evening in Berlin. Drinks in hand, he turned back to find Chris. He wasn’t by the table where he left him. Zach searched around before spotting a familiar head of golden hair leaning up against the wall. There was a tall brunette standing opposite. She had an incredibly short dress showing off all her curves, her hair loose and hanging down her back.

Zach’s steps faltered, as if the ground had suddenly shifted. He looked down sharply, cursing as the liquid splashed over his hands. He looked up again right as the girl leaned forward, intent in her gesture. Chris was still standing in the same position, a polite look on his face and his arms crossed. He actually shifted back slightly when the woman leaned in, a flicker of a grimace passing before it was gone and replaced with his usual easy smile.

That was unusual. Chris would normally be flirting back. It was second nature to him. But now he looked almost bored, if you knew him well enough. Zach started forward again. Chris turned, obviously looking for someone, and when he spotted Zach, a look of relief passed over his face.

Zach came to a rest beside Chris, catching the end of the girl’s sentence.

“…if you were keen to go somewhere a bit more adventurous?” she said breathily, her gaze sweeping over Chris.

“I’m flattered, really, but I’m not here on my own,” Chris replied, reaching out for the drink Zach was holding out.

The girl turned, finally noticing Zach. Her whole demeanour changed. She straightened up and took a step back.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought…” she shook her head, recovering. “Of course.” She smiled, a genuine one this time. “I’ll leave you boys be.” She turned to walk away before pausing and turning back. “They take all types. You should give it a go.”

Zach watched her leave before turning back to Chris, eyebrow raised. “What was she talking about?”

Chris looked flustered. “This other club. Salon Wilde something. My German isn’t that great.” He turned to look up at Zach. “She thought we were a couple.”

Zach shrugged. “You kind of implied that. She didn’t realise we knew others here.” He took a large mouthful of his drink, swallowed, then continued, feeling bold. “And anyway, would it be a bad thing if she did have it right?”

Shit. What possessed him to say that? God, he just hoped Chris had had enough to drink that he wouldn’t remember this in the morning. He hoped that was the reason Chris was still leaning against the wall, his eyes slightly glassy, staring at Zach with a blank look.

“Jesus, Zach.”

Chris downed the rest of his drink and walked forward to dump the glass on a nearby table. Then, he turned back to Zach, grabbed his wrist, and tugged him through the crowd.

“What, Chris, where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere where I can _think_ for a moment.”

Chris kept walking through to the back of the outdoor area. It was darker back here, the lights leaving pockets of shadows amongst the trees. Zach was aware that it was a lot more secluded too. He could spy movement in some of the patches of darkness. A small thrill went through him, his heart pounding with adrenaline.

Chris stopped underneath a tree, dropping Zach’s hand. There were still tables about, and Zach placed his glass down before turning back to Chris, stuffing his hands inside his jacket pockets. Chris was pacing, biting the thumb of one hand while the other was running back and forth through his hair.

“Chris?” Zach asked quietly.

Chris dropped his hand and stood still, his back turned to Zach. Zach watched his shoulders move with his breathing. Chris eventually turned around.

“Do you know how _consuming_ your presence is?” Chris asked, a strange tone to his voice.

“Excuse me?” Zach responded, confused.

“How you’ve become the only thing I can think of, in relation to _everything_?”

Chris took a step forward, his gaze focused intently on Zach.

“Chris…” Zach trailed off.

“God, everyone else can see it. I don’t even know why we pretend anymore. There’s no point fighting against fire. It takes everything in it’s path and doesn’t give a fuck if you want it to or not,” Chris said, a frantic edge to his tone. “Fuck, it even takes away things that I used to be content doing because…what is the _point_?”

Zach was staring at Chris. He wasn’t following Chris’ line of thought. He wasn’t even sure there was a line of thought. He hadn’t seen Chris this agitated for a long while, and he didn’t know what to do. He took one hand out of his jacket pocket and pushed his glasses back up on his face. Chris was directly in front of Zach now, mere inches separating them.

“The point to what?” Zach asked, softly.

Chris made a frustrated noise and shifted on the spot. Before Zach realised what was happening, Chris had reached up and grabbed the lapels on Zach’s jacket and yanked him forward. Their lips met in a clash of teeth, and Zach stumbled, hands coming up and grabbing onto Chris’ waist instinctively. Chris groaned, drawing back briefly before kissing Zach again.

There was fire running through Zach. His skin was burning, electric, whiting out the thoughts in his brain that were screaming that this wasn’t right, that something didn’t add up. He grasped at Chris’ waist tugging them even closer so that he couldn’t remember where his limbs ended and Chris’ began. He raised a hand, cupping the back of Chris’ head and threading his fingers through his hair. He had dreamed about what this could be like, had tried to imagine the feeling of Chris’ hair between his fingers. It didn’t live up to reality.

Chris let go of Zach’s jacket and ran his hands down Zach’s front, then slipped his arms behind, grabbing Zach’s ass. He broke away from Zach’s mouth for a moment, gasping.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day. Fuck. You have no idea what those pants do to me,” Chris panted, tongue darting out to taste the skin below Zach’s ear.

Zach gasped. “I think I have some idea.” He rolled his hips, pressing into Chris’ obvious erection.

Chris swore, hands scrabbling at Zach’s side before grasping onto his hips. He shoved Zach backwards, slamming them up against one of the trees, and fixed his mouth back on Zach’s, grabbing a handful of his hair to hold him in place.

Dear god, don’t ever let this stop, Zach thought.

He was beyond rational thought. He was beyond caring that they were in public, and they hadn’t talked about any of the things they should talk about. All he could think about was Chris’ hand in his hair and Chris’ body pressed against his.

His hand found Chris’ waist and yanked up his shirt, hand pressing on the skin like he wanted to do months ago. He splayed his fingers out before shifting and pushing his hand up Chris’ back. Chris arched into the touch, his head dropping forward to rest on Zach’s shoulder.

“Zach. Zach. _Zachary_ ,” Chris said. It sounded like a prayer.

Chris’ phone chose that moment to go off, blaringly loud in the relative silence of their corner.

“Shit. Fuck. Ignore it,” Zach said into the skin at Chris neck. He bit down lightly, just enough for Chris to feel teeth.

Chris jerked backwards, swearing. “Oh _god,_ yes.”

The phone cut off, going silent as Chris pushed forward. Before he could do anything, it started ringing again.

“For god’s sake,” Chris snapped, reaching to pull it out of his back pocket. He looked down at the screen. “Shit, it’s Zoe.”

“Don’t answer it,” Zach ordered.

“Zach, just, I’ll be a second,” Chris said, pressing another bruising kiss to Zach’s lips before flicking his fingers across the screen and answering. “It’s Chris,” he said, sounding out of breath.

Zach was close enough that he could hear Zoe’s voice echoing from the phone. It was clear she was still inside, the music making it difficult to make out everything she was saying. He actually didn’t care about the conversation. He had Chris exactly where he wanted him, and he was going to take full advantage of the situation. Zach leaned forward and pressed open-mouthed kisses to Chris’ neck before nipping at the underside.

“Guh,” Chris stumbled. “I…shit…” Chris’ hand tightened on Zach’s side. “…huh? Oh yes, sorry, I’m listening. Zach’s just…” he trailed off.

Zach smirked. He shifted his hand to cup the back of Chris’ head and murmured into Chris’ ear. “I’m what, Pine?”

“Zach,” Chris whined, pulling the phone away from his ear.

“Hmm? Didn’t sound like an answer,” Zach all but purred. He ran his fingers across the back of Chris’ neck, brushing through the fine hairs.

Chris groaned lightly. He brought the phone back up to his ear. “Zoe, hi, yes, sorry. Uh, back.” There was a pause before Chris answered again. “What? Nothing is going on!” Chris said. Anyone would be able to hear the slight panic in his voice. “I’m just with Zach. We’re still outside. 

Chris went to step backwards, his hand coming up to scratch at his head. Zach held him close for a moment before reluctantly letting go. He watched Chris pace, focusing on the conversation.

“I didn’t do what?” Chris asked, trying to sound oblivious. He glanced over at Zach and grinned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Zoe.”

Zach could only imagine what Zoe was saying. She was always so perceptive.

Chris laughed before stepping over to Zach and holding the phone out. “Zoe wants to speak to you.”

Zach took the phone, taking a breath before he raised it to his ear. “Hello, darling,” he drawled.

Zoe’s voice is shrill through the phone, the music a dull throb in the background. “Please tell me I’m making the wrong assumptions right now.”

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” Zach said.

“Are you and Pine finally finding the room we’ve been telling you to for months?”

“Well. Not so much a room as a dark corner.”

“I _knew it_!” Zoe shouted down the line.

“Oh god, please don’t tell me you’re jumping up and down,” Zach replied, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Chris came over, grabbing Zach’s shoulder. “What are you telling her? Jesus Zach, _we_ haven’t even worked it out yet.”

Zach dropped his hand and looked at Chris. He could see through the grin Chris still had on his face to the glimmer of anxiety underneath. Zach hoped he looked reassuring.

“I am totally winning the jackpot on this one,” Zoe said.

“Uh, just hold off on that would you?” Zach asked. “We need to work through some things first.”

“Sure, baby. Just promise me one thing?”

“What?”

“Please get a taxi back before you start ripping off each others clothes, okay?”

Zach laughed. “Sure thing.” He hung up the phone and handed it back to Chris, still laughing.

“Well. Zoe knows,” Zach said finally.

Chris closed his eyes briefly, running a hand over his face. “Please tell me she’s the only one.”

“Yeah. She’s not going to say anything.”

“Good.”

They stood there awkwardly. The energy from earlier had dissipated, replaced by a tension Zach couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“So what now?” Chris asked.

“Now? Hmm. How much are you freaking out?” Zach asked.

“Would you believe me if I said I’m not?”

“No. But then I would be worried if you weren’t, to be honest,” Zach replied.

Chris chuckled. “Fair call.”

Chris stepped forward, and Zach reached out to pull him in close. He wrapped an arm around Chris’ waist and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“How about we get out of here and make full use of the bed that you didn’t get to experience last night?” Zach asked.

Chris nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Okay.”

\--

Zach’s head was pounding when he fought his way to consciousness the next morning. Oh god, how much did he have last night? He couldn’t really remember. There was a small glow of light from the living area and muted voices. He was in bed; he could work out that much. He rolled over, groaning. The sheets next to him were crumpled and warm, like they had been recently vacated. Zach blinked.

He sat up, leaning his head on his hands momentarily before he looked up, blinking to clear his vision. The pounding in his head wasn’t helping anything, and his vision was blurrier than normal. He wondered where he had put his glasses. They weren’t on the bedside table where he normally left them. There was, however, a stack of books that he didn’t remember packing. He picked one up from the pile, thumbing through it. He caught a page and flicked it open. Chris’ handwriting littered the margins.

Oh. Oh shit.

Last night. He had kissed Chris last night. Well, technically Chris had kissed him, but the end result was the same. Zach closed his eyes, remembering the taxi ride back to the hotel, making out in the backseat like teenagers, barely being able to make it into Chris’ room before Zach was stripping him out of his clothes. They had exhausted themselves eventually and had fallen asleep in the early hours.

Zach had slept solidly and actually felt rested for the first time since the tour started. He smiled to himself. He felt lighter then he has in months. He got to his feet and looked around for his pants, then pulled them on. After not being able to locate his shirt, he padded into the main room barefoot.

Chris was lounged on the sofa, an array of breakfast foods in front of him. The television was on with a morning news show playing quietly. That explained the voices he had heard earlier. Chris wasn’t paying attention to it though, a sketchbook open on his lap and a pencil in his hand instead.

Zach walked over quietly and bent down, folding his arms across the back of the sofa.

“Morning,” he said, his voice rough.

Chris jumped and spun around.

“Woah-“ Chris said, breaking off. “Jesus, Zach, I didn’t hear you.”

Zach chuckled softly. “Obviously.” He leant over and kissed Chris gently. He drew back, before speaking again. “That okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s okay,” Chris replied, his eyes having fallen closed.

Zach stood up and made his way around the sofa, then dropped down next to Chris. He snagged a piece of toast and grabbed Chris’ knife to spread some avocado over it. He leaned back, biting down on the toast.

“So that totally did happen then. I didn’t dream it,” Chris said. He closed his notebook and placed it down onto the ground.

“Well. We must have had a vivid dream and shared it,” Zach said.

“Thought so.”

“Freaking out yet, Christopher?”

“Why do you keep asking me that?” Chris asked, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

“Because prior to last night, I was under the impression that you were very much sticking to heterosexual encounters, despite your ‘not entirely straight’ comments. You haven’t really done anything to let me believe otherwise.”

“God you can be obtuse at times, Quinto,” Chris said.

“Excuse me?” Zach retorted.

“Did you seriously not pick up on the fact I’ve been flirting with you for months?” Chris asked in disbelief.

“You flirt with _everyone_ ,” Zach replied.

Chris scoffed. “Yeah, but I don’t just cuddle everyone after a breakup.”

“You remember that?” Zach asked, one eyebrow raised.

“I woke up with you wrapped around me like an octopus. Of course I remember it.”

“Huh.”

A lot of things from the last few months were clicking into place. Zach couldn’t remember the last time Chris went on a proper date. Chris broke up with Dom not too long after he went back to New York if he remembered correctly. He didn’t really question it that much at the time, other than checking on him every so often. They both got busy with projects. It didn’t come up.

“Where do we go from here?” Chris asked, hesitant.

He wasn’t looking at Zach. His shoulders were hunched and he was biting at the nail of his thumb.

“We can’t go back to pretending nothing happened. I can’t do that,” Zach said, opting for honesty. “Do you know how long I had wanted to know what it’s like to kiss you? To hold you close?”

Chris shook his head.

“Way too fucking long. I should have given up years ago,” Zach said frankly.

“Why didn’t you?” Chris asked.

“Because you’re you.”

They fell silent, both lost in thought.

Chris shifted, tucking his feet up under Zach’s legs on the sofa. “Can we just see how it goes?”

“Hmm?” Zach asked. He lifted his gaze up from where they were resting on Chris’ feet to meet Chris’ gaze.

“See how this goes. I can’t, I don’t. I can’t make any promises.”

Zach was silent for a long while. He wondered if Chris’ really knew what he was asking. He could feel his good mood from earlier sinking slightly. Chris had regrets. He should have known this was all too good to be true. He smiled, hoping Chris couldn’t see the pain behind it. He wanted to believe, but he couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t let someone in fully if it was only a maybe.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Zach repeated. “We see what happens.”

Chris smiled. It was radiant. Chris always was a light in the darkness. Zach would take whatever he could.

* * *

 

**Six Months On.**

He’s over at his parents place when the idea first comes to him. They are sitting outside on the back deck, the remains of Sunday roast between them and he’s listening to Bob and Gwynne chatting about replanting the vegetable patch. It’s been unusually cool this afternoon. Chris has been spending more time out here again. He spent Christmas and New Year’s here. Surrounding himself with family has mostly helped. There was that one morning a few days later where he had found himself in the cemetery at 3am and he honestly couldn’t remember why he thought that had been a good idea. It was the first time he had visited Zach. He just sat and talked until his voice was raw and Daisy had come to collect him.

He shakes his head, trying to clear the memories. He is doing well now, day to day. He’s functioning mostly like normal. The reshoots for _A Thousand Words_ he was surprised to actually enjoy. He’s had meetings with his team and has read over a few scripts with the intention of letting studios know he is interested. Through it all though, there’s still this weight. The feeling that rebuilding and finding ways to continue is doing a disservice to Zach. That because he’s not thinking of Zach all the time, he is a horrible person. Chris knows it isn’t true, but it doesn’t stop him feeling it. He’s realised he doesn’t want to make it seem like their relationship is over just because Zach isn’t there anymore. He hasn’t yet been able to imagine potentially meeting someone who might fill that gap in his life. He doesn’t know if that will ever happen.

Chris knows that his therapist would say that the fact that he has even thought about it is a good sign. That it shows he is moving towards hope. Chris doesn’t believe that.

“Chris, did you hear Stephanie got into Berkeley?” his mom says, drawing him from his head.

Chris looks up from where he was holding his glass, blinking a few times.

“Huh?” Chris sits up straighter, ducking his head. “Sorry, wasn’t paying attention.”

Gwynne waves it aside. “It’s okay. I was just telling Bob about how Stephanie got into Berkeley. She’s moving up this way.”

“Oh, what is she studying?” Chris asks. He hasn’t spoken to his cousins in a while. He sees them at family gatherings every so often, but for the most part they don’t speak regularly.

“Geophysics and geology,” Gwynne replies.

“She was always good with the sciences,” Chris muses. “It’s got a good science department. She could do worse.”

“Do you miss it?” Bob chimes in.

“Miss what, Berkeley?” Chris asks, raising an eyebrow.

Bob nodded.

“Yeah, as much as anyone misses a university experience I guess. I had a blast. I always said I’d go back, but a lot has changed the last few years.” Chris shrugs. “It’s a good school.”

“Mmm,” Bob mummers.

“Do they keep asking you to come out and talk?” Gwynne asks.

“Yeah, every few years. Might take them up on it one time. I’m not too sure why they want me though. Maybe I’ll drag Cho back. Two famous graduates is better than one, right?” Chris says, chuckling.

The conversation changes after that, and Chris falls silent again. He loved Berkeley. He wouldn’t be the person he is today if it wasn’t for the opportunities he had there. It breaks his heart hearing how many students elect not to attend university due to the sheer cost. He wishes there was something he could do to help out with that.

Day eventually passes into evening. Katie joins them as it gets dark and she brings along her husband and kids. The small backyard is filled with shrieks of laughter, and Chris is roped into a game of pirate and ninjas by Caleb and Charlotte. It’s late by the time he heads back into LA, a container of leftovers sitting on the passenger seat. The stereo is turned down, the acoustic refrains washing over him.

“It’s odd, being there without you, Zach,” Chris says softly. It’s been awhile since he’s spoken to himself in the car. He’s not sure when he stopped doing it, but he figures it was probably when everything happened. “Seeing Katie and David with their kids. You should have been there, being the head of the ninjas. It would have been an epic battle. I totally would have won.” He smiles fondly, hands shifting on the steering wheel. “You would have claimed you won, we’d argue about it all the way home and then have extremely hot sex on the nearest available surface once we got inside.” Chris looks over to where Zach would normally sit out of habit. There’s no sarcastic response. The Zach in his head choosing to remain silent for once. He blinks, coming back to reality. He sighs and turns back to the road.

“I miss sex. No one ever talks about what loosing someone does to your sex drive.”

Chris snorts and shakes his head. He’s tried to take care of it himself a few times. After all, he’s only human. It didn’t end well. His therapist said it would take time. He should have listened to her.

“Look at me. Talking to myself about missing sex. No wonder everyone keeps a close eye on me.”

He falls silent then, letting the road stretch out before him. He’s standing outside his front door sooner than he would like. He takes a moment to just take it all in, letting the relative silence of late night LA wash over him before he unlocks the door and lets it click shut behind him.  

\--

There’s something nagging at him for the next few days, like he’s forgotten something but just can’t remember what. It’s frustrating being unable to shake the feeling that something isn’t right. That something is more not right then usual. He does everything he can to try and work out what it is. Chris starts running more frequently, going for longer distances and pushing himself to his limits. Visiting his favourite coffee shop, he takes the time to actually sit and see if the familiar surroundings can help.

Chris visits Joe on Friday evening, bringing over some paperwork that Joe needs to sign off on, along with the last of Zach’s possessions that they are packing up to send to Margo. He ends up staying for dinner and they order takeout pizza, sitting out on Joe’s balcony.

“How have you been, Chris?” Joe eventually asks, leaning back in his chair.

“Good. I’ve been good, for the most part,” Chris replies, looking down. He starts picking at the label on his bottle, tearing it off in small strips. It’s a difficult question to answer. There are good days. Then there are days where he’ll snap a picture of something and go to message Zach, or where he’s already dialed his number before he realises what he’s doing. Those days he feels like it hasn’t been six months, that it’s still those first six days where he wished he could make a deal with the devil. “Sorry I didn’t make it over for Christmas. It…well, it wasn’t the best time.”

“I know,” Joe says quietly.

Chris looks up at him, and really looks. Joe looks weary. There are creases around his eyes and across his forehead that Chris doesn’t remember.

“Margo flew out,” Joe continues. “She didn’t want to be in the house on her own. Thought it best for her to be with me, here. She wanted to see you but by the time she got here, you’d already gone under the radar.”

“Joe, I’m sorry. I…” Chris trails off. He doesn’t know what to say.

“She understands. But this hasn’t been easy on her either, Chris. You were the most important person in Zach’s life. She just wants to share what she remembers with you, while she still remembers it.”

Chris feels terrible. He opens his mouth to speak but can’t find any words. Guilt pools in the pit of his stomach like oil leaking into the ocean. He really hasn’t thought of anyone else, hasn’t thought of how Margo and Joe really are. Caught up in his own emotions, he’s forgotten that he isn’t alone in this journey.

Joe’s watching him silently, his glass cradled in his hand. He shifts forward and places the glass down before standing. “I thought so,” he says, then picks up the empty boxes and plates, stacking them before heading inside.

Chris takes a deep breath, trying to still his racing heart. He hasn’t felt this unbalanced in weeks. How can he begin to go about fixing it? He can’t change the past.

He freezes with his glass halfway to his mouth.

He can’t change the past. But he can control the future. There’s actually something he could do to try and make amends. Thoughts click into place from the last few days, that nagging sense of missing something. Zach’s accounts had been settled months ago and were now in Chris’ name. He hadn’t touched them, hadn’t needed to. He has his own steady income. How many people could say the same thing if this happened to them? He had to do something with this.

Chris places his glass down before standing and rushing into the apartment. He has to look into this.

“Joe, I need to borrow your laptop,” Chris says, skidding to a halt on one side of the kitchen bench.

Joe looks up, bewildered. There’s a plate still clutched in his hand that he is in the process of transferring to the dishwasher.

“What? Right now?”

“Yeah. I need to check something. Now.”

“Do you want to give more of an explanation?” Joe asks, raising an eyebrow.

He looks so similar to Zach in that moment that Chris falters.

“Uh…what, sorry. Uhm, yeah I will, I just need to look something up,” Chris says. “Please.”

“Okay,” Joe replies, putting the plate and down and heading over. “It’s in the study. I’ll come set you up.”

Chris is impatient as he follows Joe to the study, fidgeting in the background. The process of waiting for the laptop to turn on, then for Joe to log in is excruciating. He knows rationally that it won’t take that long – Joe has a pretty modern setup – but time seems to be trying to make him as miserable as possible.

Joe touches Chris on the shoulder briefly as he leaves the room, tugging the study door closed behind him. Chris mumbles an acknowledgment, already pulling up a web browser and loading Google.

He stares at the blank field, trying to think of what will bring up the best results.

_setting up a scholarship fund in memory of someone_

The result autofills for him. He’s soon staring at over 549,000 results with many of the first ones being a variation on the title ‘ _How to Start Your Own Scholarship_ ’. He clicks open a few of them in separate tabs and dives into the research.

He loses track of time. It’s well into the night when he emerges. He’s messed his hair up somewhere along the way and had to swap out his contacts for his glasses, his eyes red. He’d been side-tracked somewhere along the way and ended up on YouTube, which was never a good idea. He heads into the kitchen, the stack of paper he printed clutched in his hand with a notebook that he didn’t even remember grabbing from Joe’s desk.

“You worked it out then?” Joe asks, a curious look on his face.

“Yeah, yeah I think.” Chris trails off, still lost in his own thoughts. He places down the stack of paper and retrieves his notebook, flicking through it, trying to find the right page.

Joe sets down the cloth he was holding and walks around the island bench, coming to a stop in front of Chris. He holds out his hand. Chris hands over the notebook.

“I’m setting up a scholarship in Zach’s name. With his Estate,” Chris says.

“Oh,” Joe says, still looking down at the list Chris has written up.

With his arms crossed over his chest, biting down on one thumbnail, Chris waits.

When Joe looks up at Chris again, his eyes are damp. He wipes hurriedly at them, sniffing. He smiles softly. “I think it’s a brilliant idea.”

Relief floods through Chris. He takes a breath, not even realising he had been holding it. Tension flows out of his shoulders. He turns, his back hitting the kitchen counter and slumping down.

“I just, I’ve been trying to think of what to do with it for months. I don’t need it. I actually don’t need it. You and Margo refused to take your portions, even though it was in his will. It’s just, been sitting there and…”

Joe interrupted him. “Chris. You don’t need to justify it to me.” He places the notebook down on the bench. He crosses his arms, looking down and swallowing. “He would be proud.”

\--

Chris has never felt so unsure standing outside a door. Well, that’s not entirely true, he thinks. But in recent years, he’s been pretty confident with all the rooms he’s walked in to. It’s chilly outside, and he tugs his coat around him tighter. He never thinks to bring enough warm clothes when he comes to the East Coast. He digs Zach’s beanie out of his pocket and jams it on his head.

It’s 10am on a non-descript Tuesday morning and the residential street is quiet. It’s been awhile since Chris has been here. They were meant to spend Christmas in Pittsburgh before everything happened. Chris couldn’t make the journey on his own when it came around.

There’s a particularly strong gust of wind and the force of it pushes Chris towards the door. He shoulders the strap of his bag up higher and takes a deep breath. He reaches out, hand hesitating briefly before he reaches and presses the doorbell.

The silence after it finishes ringing is agonising. Time stretches, and even though he knows it’s only a few minutes, it seems like hours. He clenches and unclenches his fist and bites his lip as he waits.

Eventually he hears the lock turn and the scrape of the door pulling back. Margaret Quinto is standing on the other side, exactly how Chris remembers. He smiles nervously, making sure to meet her gaze.

“Hey, Mrs. Q,” he says, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

“Chris,” Margo replies, shocked. She takes a step forward, confusion on her face. “What, what are you doing here?”

“I came to say hi,” Chris starts, before coughing. He’s not really sure what to say. “I, uh. I know I haven’t really been around or thought of anyone else the last few months. I’d like to change that.”

Margo is silent for a few moments. Chris isn’t sure what to make of that. He isn’t sure what he was expecting. He knows he’s been a pretty terrible son-in-law and probably deserves the confusion he’s getting now.

“I also have some of Zach’s things with me. He wanted you to have them,” he continues, desperately trying to fill the silence. He gestures down at the bag over his shoulder. “I was uh, hoping I could stay a few nights, if that’s okay. If not, I can get a hotel that’s more than fine. I’ll just uh, have to call a taxi or something. I can come back later…” Chris trails off and has half turned to head back down the path when Margo finally moves.

She reaches out and grabs Chris by the arm, tugging him forward and into a hug.

“My idiot child,” she says, and laughs.

Chris wraps his arms around Margo, returning the hug. A weight feels like it has lifted from his chest, and he tucks his head into her shoulder, taking a heaving breath. He’s not crying; there’s just dust floating in the air. He holds on, bag slipping off his shoulder as Margo squeezes him tight.

\--

It’s after dinner when Chris finally pulls the box out of his bag. It was a quiet meal. Margo cooked pasta and they sat at the breakfast bar and just talked. They are in the living room, an evening program playing quietly in the background.

Chris sits down again, tucking his feet up and into the end of the couch. He hands the box over and sits back.

“There are a few other things – larger possessions – that should turn up in the next week. I couldn’t bring them all with me,” Chris says, scratching the back of his neck. “I found these when I cleared out the study a few months back.”

Margo nods, setting down her mug and opening the box. There’s a collection of loose pages bound together in rubber bands, as well as a few scrapbooks and other odds and ends. When Chris found the letter Zach left him, there had also been a few other pages about what he wanted Margo to have. Chris had managed to track down pretty much all of them for him.

Right at the bottom was an envelop with Chris’ address stamped on the outside. He’s nervous when Margo gets to it. She looks at the writing before looking up at Chris.

“I think this is yours?” she asks, holding it out.

“It’s there for a reason. I want you to open it,” Chris replies. He rests his elbow on the edge of the couch and cups his chin, watching Margo.

There’s a look of puzzlement for a moment before she turns it over and flips open the flap. There are only a few sheets of paper inside, two with the letterhead that of Chris and Zach’s finance consultant, as well as one from the University of Southern California. Between them both, it’s the start of the scholarship plan. Chris, Joe, the university, and Chris’s accountant had come up with a basic concept: two scholarships to be awarded annually for one student in the Cinematic Arts program and one in the Dramatic Arts program. The University had accepted Chris’ offer and the letter included was official acknowledgment.

“Is this…Chris, what have you done?” Margo says, looking up at Chris, still holding the pages.

“It’s giving back. I don’t need the funds. I, I think, Zach would be happy with them being used this way. He started from the bottom and worked hard. I just thought, helping someone with the first steps, at one of the best film schools…” He trails off, shrugging slightly.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I meant…you have no idea what this means, Chris. What possibilities you’ve just created through your generosity,” Margo says. She’s still staring at the pages.

“You don’t mind I didn’t pick Carnegie? I mean, It’s Zach’s school, and it was the first one I thought of, but Hollywood is in LA, I figured it made sense to have it close by. The opportunities the students have there are wonderful.”

“It makes sense why you picked USC. It’s a good school. It’s also close to you. You’re the one who is going to see this happen and get to witness how it goes,” Margo eventually says. She puts the paper down and shifts, reaching out to grasp Chris’ hand. “It is remembering Zach, but you’re at the heart of it. You always were Zach’s center. He wouldn’t want it anywhere else.”

Chris looks down, swallowing. His voice is thick when he speaks. “Thank you. You have no idea what that means to hear.”

“Chris, don’t ever doubt your importance.”

“I really am sorry I haven’t been around,” Chris says.

Margo waves his statement away. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

* * *

 

**New York, 2014.**

It went downhill when they got back from the tour. Zach had been in New York again for the last four months, three of them being completely taken up by the Glass Menagerie run. It wasn’t all bad. He loved being on Broadway. Loved this more then being in LA and on a film set. The immediate connection between actor and audience was intoxicating. Every night saw a full cycle of creation, of birth and death of a character, the nuances of conveying a story to an audience.

It’s not that he didn’t like LA. It’s just that LA now had a lot of emotional connections that Zach did not want to think about. His departure from LA back to New York had been abrupt. He could still see Chris walking out that final time. The conversation about Zach wanting more than what they had, of wanting whatever it had been between them to be permanent. Chris wanting to keep it casual, that he couldn’t offer more. They had fought properly, for the first time in years.

_“Well. I guess that’s it then,” Chris said, arms crossed over his chest, looking down._

_“Yeah.”_

_“Okay then.”_

_There was silence for a long while. Chris eventually unfolded himself from the chair he was sitting in. He headed for Zach’s front door, pausing for a moment._

_“Good luck with the play.”_

Zach sighed, picking up his phone. He flicked through it and opened the last message he’d received from Chris.

_Caught up filming in London. Not going to make the show. Sorry Quinto. CP._

Zach hadn’t replied. He wasn’t sure what to say. They had spoken briefly a few times in the last month, but it lacked the banter they normally had. Zach worried that he had permanently damaged their friendship. That it wouldn’t go back to what they had before. He should never have returned Chris’ kiss in Berlin. That was where it all went wrong.

He placed his phone back down on the coffee table and stretched back, slouching down into the couch and tipping his head to lean on the edge of the armrest. Chris was meant to come visit last weekend. The show only had a week and a half left. Zach wasn’t sure why this mattered so much. Maybe it was because he’d made an effort to see all of Chris’ theatre endeavours. Maybe he expected too much of Chris. He let himself care too deeply.

“Come on Noah. Need to get out. Want a walk before I have to go?” Zach asked, looking down to where Noah was curled up next to the sofa.

Noah rose his head and woofed, tail wagging. He jumped up eagerly when Zach swung his feet around to the ground and stood up. Stretching, Zach headed into the bedroom in the search of a coat and socks. He was in the process of doing up his shoes when the doorbell rang. Noah was off like a shot, scuttling down the corridor and barking.

“Noah!” Zach called. Swearing, he headed off after him. It was a habit that Zach couldn’t get Noah to break. He crouched down and grabbed Noah’s collar. “Buddy, we’ve spoken about this. It’s just the front door, no need to shout about it.”

Zach stood, releasing Noah. He had no idea who would be visiting in the middle of the afternoon. He supposed Mrs. Livingstone from next door might have needed to borrow another egg or something. He reached out and unlocked the door, holding Noah back with his foot when he pulled it open.

He was met with the sight of Chris’ back. A small suitcase was resting on the ground next to him. Chris spun around at the sound of the door, a soft grin on his face. His coat was unbuttoned and he had on his customary white tee and Ray Bans.

Zach blinked. Chris was meant to be in London. Chris wasn’t meant to be standing outside his apartment in New York.

“ _What?_ ”

Chris laughed. “Okay, not exactly the reaction I was hoping for.”

Zach thought about closing the door on Chris and going back inside. He was not prepared for this. All those feelings he had been trying to ignore came flooding back. He did not need this right now.

“Uh, sorry,” Zach said, his brain still trying to catch up with events. “You’re supposed to be in London. You should be in London.”

Chris shrugged. “Well, obviously, I’m not.”

“When I said life was boring, that wasn’t an invitation, Pine,” Zach said, aiming for his normal tone of disinterest.

“Oh come on, you’re happy to see me.”

Zach finally stepped back, letting Chris pick up his suitcase and come inside. He closed the door behind them and went ahead of Chris into the living room.

“There were photos of you on set yesterday,” Zach said.

“You were looking up photos of me?” Chris asked, eyebrow raised.

“Fuck you,” Zach responded, shaking his head.

The stood there, looking at each other. Chris looked like Zach remembered, but slightly paler than the last time they were in the same space. His hair was more golden and shorter than it had been on tour. There was tiredness around Chris’ eyes, and a tension in the set of his shoulders.

Zach eventually broke the silence. “The guest room is out of action. I’m fixing things up.”

Chris hesitated for just a moment, his smile faltering before flicking back into place so quickly that Zach thought he imagined it.

“No problemo. I’m good with the couch.” Chris walked over to it, dumping his bag down. “I’ve slept on worse.”

“Fine. Whatever. Just, I’m not playing tour guide this time and I have a call in three hours. God, you pick the worst times.” He pinched the bridge of his nose before turning and heading back to the bedroom. He heard Chris’ phone chime as he left.

He took a moment to still his breathing, forcing himself to calm down. He stared at his reflection in the mirror above the bathroom sink. He could do this. It wasn’t distracting knowing Chris was in his living room. His nerves hadn’t just shot up a million times since realising Chris was actually going to come see the play. He ran the tap, splashing the icy water across his face. He could do this.

After wiping his face dry, he headed back into the bedroom to find his coat. He heard the fridge door open before Chris’ voice echoed down the hall.

“Hey, do you have anything slightly resembling food here that isn’t lettuce?” Chris said, calling loud enough to be heard in the other room.

“Get your own fucking food,” Zach yelled back.

Chris laughed.

Zach rolled his eyes and smiled. He had to admit that it felt good to be near Chris again.

\--

They ended up heading out early to a burger joint a few blocks from the theatre. Chris wasn’t lying when he said he was hungry.

“Plane food man. Even in first, it’s still not as satisfying as something not cooked 40,000 feet in the air.”

Zach grabbed a table by one wall while Chris headed over to order. He pulled out his phone, checking on the arrangements the stage manager had sent earlier. He had managed to pull some strings to get Chris a ticket for the show that night. There were advantages to being a name in the production.

Chris slipped into the seat opposite Zach and placed a plastic number on the edge of their table. He slid Zach’s bottle of juice across to him.

“The burgers here look epic. Why have you not brought me here before?” Chris asked.

Zach shrugged. “Only found it a few months ago. I caught up with Jon here.”

“What, Groff? I thought you weren’t speaking to him.”

“I ran into him a while back. Like, literally ran into him,” Zach said, shrugging. “We had lunch, that was it. We live in the same area, it’s not surprising.”

“Huh,” Chris said. “Anyway, the burgers look amazing. You sure you didn’t want anything?”

“I find it hard to eat before a show. It just sits funny.”

“Totally fine. Just don’t steal my fries, man.”

“Hosts prerogative. If I want to steal your fucking fries, I damn well will,” Zach fired back, grinning.

“Yeah, okay. You’re paying next time then.”

They were interrupted by Chris’ burger arriving. Chris had only taken a bite when a blob of sauce dripped from the edge and onto his shirt.

Zach raised his eyebrow. “I had forgotten how refined you are, Christopher. Please at least make a passing attempt at etiquette and decorum. We are in public.”

“Fuck you.”

Zach tutted, chuckling. “Don’t make promise you don’t intend to keep. We’ve discussed lying.”

Chris grinned, “You know me, Zachary. I’m forever a man of my word.” He looked Zach in the eye, a serious glint in his eyes in juxtaposition to the relaxed, joking expression on his face.

Zach blinked and felt his skin warm. He told himself not to think about that. Don’t think about Chris’ mouth on yours. He coughed and looked away, stealing one of Chris’ fries. He wondered if Chris could feel the same tension he could. He took a breath, determined to put it from his mind.

They ended up walking to the theatre, Chris’ hands buried deep in this jacket pockets. A cold snap had come through in the early evening, and Chris wasn’t dressed for it. Zach looked at Chris and decided to take pity on him. He unwound his scarf and held it out.

“Here. You’re the definition of an idiot. I told you it gets cold at night.”

Chris shook his head. “I’m fine. It’s like, five minutes away.”

“We’re walking home after. I’m not listening to you whine like a child the entire way.”

Chris spluttered indignantly. “I do not whine.”

“You do. It’s pathetic. Shut up and take the scarf.”

Chris took it and wrapped it around his neck, tucking the ends into his jacket. Zach smiled to himself, secretly please, when he noticed Chris pull the fabric up over his nose to briefly sniff it.

As they entered the theatre through the stage door, Zach’s nerves returned from earlier. He hadn’t felt this on edge since opening night, hadn’t felt this much unchecked energy in weeks. He showed Chris around, introducing him to the cast and crew. Chris posed for a few photos; there were a few Trek fans in the crew who didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to snap a shot of both Kirk and Spock After they were done, Zach hovered in front of his dressing room door. He didn’t know how to tell Chris that he needed time alone. He couldn’t get into the mindset of Tom with Chris there distracting him.

Thankfully, Chris got the hint.

“Look, I’m going to go hang in the green room until it’s time. You do what you need.” He scratched the back of his head. “I guess this is where I’m meant to say break a leg or something, right?”

“Or something. You’ve done theatre, asshole.”

“Screw you, Quinto. I don’t know why I bothered to come.”

Zach laughed. He stepped forward and grabbed Chris into a hug. Chris’ arms slipped around his waist easily, familiar. He closed his eyes, not wanting to let go. He felt Chris draw back and went to step away, but he didn’t get far before Chris cupped his hand around the back of his head and leaned up to press a kiss to Zach’s forehead.

“You’ve got this, Zachary.”

Chris turned and walked off down the corridor, leaving Zach outside his dressing room, bewildered.

\--

The performance that night was charged unlike it had been since opening week off-Broadway. Zach knew his part and performed it well. Tonight, there was another facet to Tom. He poured feelings that he didn’t even know he had into that final monologue. As he stood onstage with the cast at final bows, he tried to spot Chris in the crowd, but the lighting made it near impossible, and he actually didn’t know which section Chris had ended up in.

“Did you feel that energy tonight?” Celia exclaimed when they finally made it off stage.

“Yeah, it was something else,” Brian answered. He walked over and clapped Zach on the shoulder. “That was well done, Zach.”

“Thanks,” Zach murmured, distracted. He still felt on edge.

“We’re going to go out for drinks if you want to join us?” Brian asked.

Zach shook his head. “Can’t, sorry. Have plans with a friend.”

“No worries.

Zach headed off down the corridor to his dressing room and sat down in front of the mirror to take off his makeup. He left his door open, and various crew stuck their heads in to say congratulations.

“Perhaps it was a familiar bit of music. Perhaps it was only a piece of transparent glass. Perhaps I am walking along a street at night, in some strange city, before I have found companions,” Chris said from behind him, his voice tinged with emotion.

Zach straightened and turned in his chair.

“That was…” Chris trailed off.

It was rare Zach caught him at a loss for words. His heart constricted, waiting to hear what Chris would say.

“…extraordinary. Just…haunting, sublime. Incandescent.” Chris’ voice sounded raw.

It was too much. Zach swallowed.

Chris took a step forward and reached a hand toward Zach. Zach stood from his chair, then hesitated on the spot. He was keenly aware of the open door next to Chris and kept glancing at it. He couldn’t work out the look on Chris’ face. He hadn’t seen Chris this open in a long while. He broke eye contact and stepped past Chris to close the door.

He turned back to Chris. “You, having you there. watching it gave…I don’t. Something else.”

They were standing inches apart from each other. Zach looked down at his shoes, struggling to make sense of his thoughts. It always took a while to come back to himself after being someone else for three hours. He didn’t have any of his defences up.

“I could only hope to achieve half as much in my career. That? That was a privilege to witness,” Chris said.

Zach looked up and searched Chris’ blue eyes. He felt like he was missing something. He watched Chris swallow before a look of resolution settled onto his face.

Chris reached a hand out, touching Zach’s cheek. “I want to be there for every moment, Zach.”

“Chris,” he breathed.

“I want to see you achieve. To reach even higher heights. I want to know that when you do, that I can be there at the end of the day to share it with you. That I can be the one you come back to.”

Chris stepped forward again, closing the distance between them.

“It’s been hell since Trek press. You being here, how we left things. Not knowing when I’d get to see you again. Knowing that you could meet someone here and I’d have missed out on all of this, that I’d have to go back to pretending that all I feel for you is great friendship and that I didn’t want something more. When Mom asks if I’m bringing someone to Thanksgiving, I want it to actually be someone I give two shits about. Paramount and the press can go to hell-“

Zach grabbed Chris by the lapels of his coat and pulled him forward, slamming their mouths together. Chris groaned into the kiss and pressed his body against Zach’s. Somehow, Chris’ arm found its way around Zach’s waist, hand fisted into Zach’s shirt. It was familiar. It was so familiar, and it felt like coming home.

He growled, biting Chris’ lip, and pushed a hand under his sweater, yanking Chris’ shirt out of his pants. Chris hissed at the sudden attack of cold, clenching his hand in Zach’s hair.

“Fuck, Zach.”

“Getting to it.”

Zach moved his mouth to Chris’ neck, biting his way down as his hand scrabbled at Chris’ belt, pulling it open before working on his fly.

“Zach, Zach, fuck,” Chris panted. “Fuck, we can’t…shit…public. Anyone could walk in. Your door doesn’t have a lock.”

He pulled back. Chris’ mouth was deliciously swollen and red.

“Do you want me to stop?” His hand pressed down against Chris erection.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

He grinned as he pulled Chris’s cock out of his pants and gave it a few lazy strokes. Chris’ eyes fluttered closed. Something flared in the pit of Zach’s stomach. Chris was his and damn it if Chris wasn’t going to watch while Zach took him apart. He paused his hand and was satisfied at the small whimper Chris let out.

“You look at me, Pine. You didn’t fly all this way not to look.”

Chris dragged his eyes back open. Zach could tell from the heaving of his chest that he was trying to control his breathing.

“You stop looking, you close your eyes, you even think about going into your head, I stop. Clear?”

“Shit,” Chris panted. “Get the fuck on with it.”

Zach took Chris’ cock in his hand again and swiped across the top where it leaked with pre-come. Holding Chris’ gaze, he lifted his hand to his mouth and licked it clean.

It didn’t take long after that. It was over embarrassingly quickly, Chris blushing a shade of red and saying Zach’s name like it was the best prize in the world. Zach dropped his forehead down onto Chris’ shoulder and closed his eyes. Arms wrapped around him, and Chris’ hand found it’s way into his hair.

“How long can I keep you for?” Zach asked eventually, lips brushing against Chris neck.

“For as long as you want. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

\--

Chris actually only had two days before he needed to return to London. They spent their time exploring the city during the day, and Chris holed himself up in Zach’s apartment each evening while Zach performed. Considering Chris was meant to be in London, Zach could understand not wanting to be caught. He had to admit, coming home to Chris passed out in his bed was really something he could get used to on a permanent basis.

The morning Chris was due to fly out, Zach did not want to let him go. It had grown late in the day; the sun glared through the curtains they had forgotten to close the previous night. Chris was still asleep, tucked up against Zach’s side and on his stomach, hands buried under the pillows.

There was something peaceful in watching the rise and fall of Chris’ back. The sun caught Chris’ freckles and highlighted the muscles being pulled taught. Zach reached a hand out and traced it lightly across the plane of one shoulder. His fingers trailed down Chris’ lower back before he splayed his whole hand across Chris’ side. He never let himself really explore. Before, it was always quick and rushed. They’d have five minutes here, before an event there. There was always the risk of getting caught.

Chris shifted slightly under his hand. Zach pulled his hand back, not wanting to disturb Chris’ sleep.

“Nooo,” Chris groaned, eyes flicking open. “Hand. Back.”

Zach chuckled and placed his hand down on Chris’ back again. “Better?”

Chris nodded sleepily, eyes closing.

“You know, you’re going to have to get up soon. It’s almost eleven,” Zach murmured.

Chris’ back tensed under his palm before he rolled over and rubbed at his eyes. 

“Did you have to remind me?”

“One of us needs to be responsible.”

“I don’t want to be responsible,” Chris said, shifting so he was lying mostly across Zach. “I want to say fuck it all and stay here. It’s comfortable here.”

“I know,” Zach responded automatically.

He wanted to hold Chris close and never let go. He wanted to make Chris stay with him in New York. He wanted to perform every night knowing Chris would be here in his bed to come home to. It was rare that he got what he wanted. The consolation was that when Chris came back, he was coming back to Zach. That this was real and he didn’t dream the last three days.

Zach shifted, wrapping his arms around Chris and burying his face into his neck. He felt Chris hand come up to brush through his hair.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Zach said against Chris’ skin.

“I’m coming back. I’ll always come back.”

“Not the same.”

“I’ll make sure to send you frequent, condescending voicemails.”

Zach huffed a breath. “Jeesh, I’m feeling the love, princess.”

Chris pressed a kiss to the side of Zach’s head. “What, you want messages saying how much I miss you instead?”

“Sap.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Zach sighed, pulling Chris closer. “Don’t go falling in love with that Kendrick girl while you’re there.”

“If I was going to go for anyone, surely you know it’s Streep.”

“You have no chance, so she’s hardly a threat. Do I need to remind you of the time-”

“No. No, you do not,” Chris interrupted, a warning note in his tone.

“Please tell me you’re blushing, Pine.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh my god you are!” Zach exclaimed. He raised his head, craning to look at Chris.

“I hate you. So much.”

It was a crowning achievement whenever Zach managed to get Chris to blush. In Zach’s personal scorebook, making Chris blush during interviews got bonus points. He was going to have to add another ranking for blushing in bed. To be fair, it didn’t take much.

“You…” Zach said, twisting further to press a kiss to Chris’ forehead. “…are amazing…” He levered himself up and over Chris, kneeling on either side of his hips. “…please never stop.” He settled his weight down on his arms, hovering centimetres from Chris’ face.

The flush had spread further down Chris body. Chris took a deep breath in, pupils dilated.

“Incredible,” Chris breathed. His tongue darted out and licked his lips.

“What is?” Zach asked. The air from Chris’ mouth was warm against Zach’s skin.

“How incorrigible you are.”

“It’s so easy to get you to react.” He emphasised his comment with a roll of his hips, making Chris hiss. “Point proven.”

Chris didn’t even know the half of it.

\--

Eventually they did have to get out of bed or risk Chris actually missing his flight. There was a scramble to find all of Chris’ possessions, which had somehow managed to spread through Zach’s apartment. Zach pulled Chris’ hoodie from the back of his couch before slipping it on and zipping it up. He tucked his nose down into the fabric and inhaled. It smelled like Chris. The air was brisk outside, and the taxi to the airport seemed to take longer than normal, like it knew that a separation was about to occur and Manhattan was doing it’s small part to prolong the inevitable.

Zach lounged on one of the uncomfortable Starbucks chairs, venti cup in hand. He had the hood of Chris’ sweater pulled up, and so far no one has seemed to realise he was the one sitting there. The line for first class check-in was thankfully not long, and British Airways was fairly efficient. He took a mouthful of the coffee, grimacing at the cup. In moments like these, he missed Lamill.

Zach looked up as Chris made his way back from the counter, messenger bag slung over his shoulder. Zach stood, picking up his cup and meeting Chris halfway. There were groups around them, friends and family saying goodbye to their loved ones. He was envious of their freedom in public; they didn’t have to hide in any of their relationships.

Chris pulled off the sunglasses he had been wearing, his blue eyes sombre. Zach raised an eyebrow, questioning, but Chris just smiled softly before shaking his head. He looked down, biting his lip before his eyes flicked up to meet Zach’s again. It seemed to Zach like there was so much Chris wanted to say but he didn’t know how too. Zach didn’t know how to either.

“Well…” Chris started, then trailed off.

“It’s unlike you to run out of words, Pine.”

“I was going to say that I’ll miss you, but you know. Probably won’t,” Chris retorted, rolling his eyes.

“Such a princess.”

“Says you, who didn’t want to let me leave.”

“See the thing is, no one will believe you that I’m the clingy one, Christopher,” Zach said.

“Sure, sure. I’ll remind you of this when you’re complaining about having to make your own coffee. Admit it, I can make a decent cup these days.”

“Hmmmm, yes, it’s just for your coffee that I keep you around.”

“Asshole.”

Zach grinned, reaching out and pulling Chris into a hug. “Goes without saying.” He squeezed briefly, aware that they were in the middle of a public airport terminal. They hadn’t yet had that conversation. He didn’t want to push. He went to let go, only to have Chris pull him back in tight.

“Chris?” Zach asked, cautious.

“I just. I will miss you. There’s something I need…I…should say…I…”

There was a weight in that unfinished sentence. Zach wondered if Chris was about to say what he thought he was. His heart felt light.

“Go catch your flight. I’ll see you soon.”

The stepped back, Zach briefly squeezing Chris’ shoulder. Chris nodded and turned, walking determinedly away. He was soon lost in the crowd of people.

Zach’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out, turning to head for the exit as he did.

_Don’t let Noah up on the bed. That spot’s mine._

He laughed to himself before texting back quickly.

_Love you too, princess._

* * *

 

**Nine Months On.**

If there’s one thing Chris loves about Hollywood it’s the fact that lunch meetings are a thing. His love of food is no secret and he takes every opportunity to discuss business at some of the best restaurants. This particular lunch is being paid out of the pockets of Focus Features, and Chris is planning on taking advantage of it. Tim and Eric – the two producers on _A Thousand Words_ – are there, along with Kathryn. The rough cut of the film is completed, and they want to show Chris the trailer.

The trailer opens with the infamous airport scene. There’s no accompanying music, just the chatter and jangle of a crowd of people in an enclosed space. The scene cuts to an office building and shows Stephen hanging up from a phone call. The music starts then; it’s an Andrew Bird piece, one of the few Chris recognises. There’s a series of quick montages between various airports, flight departures and arrivals flicking on the screen. Stephen knocking into someone at an airport and dropping his passports everywhere. This is where Lucy enters, reaching down to pick up the passports. A shot of them together briefly, before cutting to a café in Rome, a street in London, a bridge in Amsterdam. There’s still no speech, just the music playing. The fight at the airport, Stephen watching Lucy from the back at her wedding. It cuts to black, the music going with it. The title card appears in a thin script, Chris’ and Daisy’s name below it.

Chris sits back and takes off the headphones. It’s the first time he’s seen any of the completed scenes. The producers are watching Chris intently, waiting for his reaction. He can’t quite meet their gaze yet. Watching this part of his life back is a strange experience. There’s evidence of the before and after if you know what to look for. Smiling softly, he wonders what Zach would have thought of the trailer. He probably would made fun of the wardrobe while making sure Chris knew exactly how proud of him he was. Chris caught his lip between his teeth, taking a moment before looking up.

“It’s good,” he says eventually. “I like it.”

He sees Tim and Eric visibly relax.

“We’re glad, Chris. I know that can’t have been easy for you to watch,” Tim says.

Chris shakes his head. “Surprisingly, not among the worst things I’ve had to do in my life. It’s more serious than I thought it would be.”

“It came together more in editing,” Kathryn supplies. “There was a lighter version. We’ll probably go with that closer to release.”

“It feels right for it. Draws attention without giving too much away,” Chris says.

“Daisy said the same thing. We caught up with her yesterday.”

“Yeah, she messaged me.”

“That’s not the only reason we’re here today, Chris,” Eric says. He pulls out a few sheets of paper from his briefcase, handing them around.

Chris glances down at the sheet, groaning when he sees it’s the preliminary press schedule.  “Really? Already?”

Kathryn laughs, shaking her head. “Not quite. We just want to get this locked down as much as possible. However…”

“Oh here it comes,” Chris says, rolling his eyes.

“We want to launch the trailer with an interview. Everyone’s wanting you, Chris,” Tim continues, gently.

“Of course they do. I haven’t given a public interview in over nine months. They are dying to get their claws into me.” He’s not upset really. He expected this sooner or later. There have been endless requests for interviews sent through Kevin, and Chris has declined them all without even reading who they were from. “Who do you have in mind? If I agree to this, I get to veto anyone that I don’t like.” If he’s going to do this, then he needs that small semblance of control. It has to be someone he trusts enough. They are going to want to talk about Zach; he knows he can’t escape that. He can at least make sure whoever it is will do it with some delicacy.

Kathryn rolls her eyes. “If we let you veto everyone you don’t like, we won’t even have a list.”

“Not true. I get along fine with most of them,” Chris objects.

“Yeah, sure, we believe you.”

Tim clears his throat, trying not to look amused. “Jimmy Fallon, Ellen, Stephen Colbert, James Corden. Those are your choices.”

Huh. He actually likes all of them, for the most part. “Is Corden still doing those car karaoke segments?” Zach had made him watch all of them when he first discovered the videos. He made Chris promise that if the chance ever came up, he’d agree to do it, no questions asked.

Eric shook his head. “I doubt it. He hasn’t done one in a long time. Also, not really the vibe we’re going for.”

“Damn.”

“Chris,” Kathryn says. “We need a decision on this today. You’ll be heading over next week. Either you pick, or we pick for you.”

It really could be worse, considering the options in LA. The fact that they are willing to fly him to New York for the trailer drop is saying something. He looks down at the sheet in front of him, not really seeing the words. He likes all of them, but there really is only one he’s been completely candid and comfortable with. Ellen was his first interview after they decided to go public with their relationship. They both appeared and spent most of the show with Ellen. It went a long way in smoothing over some of the media backlash.

He sits back, placing the paper down. “Ellen. I’ll talk with Ellen.”

\--

It takes him less time than he thought it would to get across LA traffic. As a consequence, he’s earlier then he wanted to be. He’s holed up in the dressing room, notebook in hand and earbuds in, trying to calm the flare up of anxiety. He’d been fine ever since the meeting, but waking up this morning was a different story. Noah could tell he was anxious and wouldn’t leave him alone. He should have let him come.

The sketch he’s working on is half finished. It’s a simple coffee shop scene, two strangers sitting down for the first time. He’d witnessed them the other day when he had caught up with Zoe. He couldn’t get the idea out of his head. Focusing on creating something has helped. He needs to get a few new projects off the ground to keep him occupied, he thinks. The meeting he has lined up next week should help; he hopes to lock down a part in the next Peter Jackson project.

He’s so lost in his own world that he doesn’t hear the first set of knocks, and it isn’t until the door closes that he realises he’s not alone. He snaps the notebook closed, sitting up sharply from where he was lounging on the couch.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”, he starts, blushing red at being caught unawares.

Ellen DeGeneres laughs. “Oh my god no, don’t. That’s totally my fault.” She holds her hands out in front of her, a placating gesture. “You’re even more adorable than I remember.”

Chris stands, dropping his notebook down and stepping forward to pull Ellen into a hug. “Stop it you. You know I have enough of an ego as it is.”

They hold each other close for a moment, Ellen squeezing extra hard before stepping back and holding Chris’ shoulder.

“You look good,” she says.

Chris ducks his head. “Thanks, I’ve been trying this new diet thing. Eh, not sure if it’s working.”

“No really, you look well.”

He shrugs, brushing it off. “All things considered, I’m doing okay.”

Ellen gestures for Chris to sit back down before coming to sit next to him, reaching out to pat his knee.

“How are you? Honestly?”

He looks down briefly, hand tightening on the material of his jeans as he swallows past the lump in his throat. “Okay. I’m honestly doing okay. I’m adjusting. I haven’t…reached for him in a while. I’m learning to do it all on my own again.”

“I can’t imagine what you went through,” Ellen says gently.

“Not many can,” he replies, his voice flat. “It’s something that you can’t fully understand until it happens. I…yeah. It’s a hell I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”

He means that. There are very few people in the world he hates, but he wouldn’t wish this on any of them. Heartbreak is a very different feeling when the damage is permanent.

“I wanted to check what is off-limits and what you’re willing to talk about,” Ellen says. “I know we’re here for the film, and I’m going to focus on that, but you can also understand the pressure there is to talk about him. I want to be there with you.”

He nods, swallowing again. The anxiety he had managed to placate is back again. He is restless, fidgeting as he thinks of how to respond. He isn’t going to get another opportunity at this. Ellen is good at her job and knows how to tackle difficult situations. Zach also deserves to be spoken of. Zach’s fans lost someone too, and now Chris is the last connection they have. They supported him too, and he feels like he owes it to them to talk about it.

“You can ask. I can’t promise I’ll answer everything, and I may need a moment. But you can ask.”

“Okay. We can work with that.”

Ellen stands then and leaves him to it. Chris sighs, closing his eyes and slouching down. He can do this. It’s just one interview.

> \--
> 
> Ellen: I know a few of you might be thinking I’m playing a late April Fools joke – trust me guys, I’m well aware it’s the 18th – but my next guest is one that we haven’t heard much from in the last few months. He first appeared before us in all his princely glory in 2004 and since then, we have fallen more in love. He’s with us today to talk about his upcoming film _A Thousand Words,_ let’s make him feel welcome, Chris Pine!
> 
> [Applause and cheers from the audience. Chris enters, waving to the audience as he makes his way down to Ellen. He’s dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, a blue plaid button down hanging open over the top. He and Ellen embrace, speaking quickly before Chris turns back to the audience, waving again and sitting down on his chair.]
> 
> Ellen: It’s great to have you here Chris!
> 
> Chris: It’s great to be here Ellen. You haven’t changed a bit. What is it, just turned 46?
> 
> Ellen: You’re still a charmer. I’ll have to tell Portia to watch out.
> 
> [They laugh. Chris taps his hands against his knees.]
> 
> Ellen: We haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?
> 
> Chris: Yes, I took a bit of a sabbatical from Hollywood. It was a needed break.
> 
> Ellen: You finished filming _A Thousand Words_ and pretty much took off.
> 
> Chris: I had a fairly good reason to. Filming _A Thousand Words_ ended up being one of the most intense experiences of my life.
> 
> Ellen: I can imagine. Filming anything – let alone a high drama piece like this one is looking to be – while you are trying to grieve is an incredible achievement.
> 
> [The poster for _A Thousand Words_ appears, Stephen and Emily facing each other from opposite sides of the poster. Chris glances up at it, smiling before looking back to Ellen,]
> 
> Chris: I did more acting off the set than on it for that film. It was demanding work. I’m very proud of the end product. Did you want to see some?
> 
> [Ellen turns to the audience, hands raised. The audience cheers and claps. Chris gestures to Ellen. The trailer plays behind them, Chris rests his head in his palm as he watches. It fades out. The room fills with even louder cheers, the audience standing on their feet and applauding. Chris turns red and ducks his head, waving it away.]
> 
> Ellen: Wow.
> 
> [Audience erupts again. It takes a while for it to calm down.]
> 
> Ellen: I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I can definitely say that blew away all my expectations.
> 
> Chris: Thank you. Thank you very much.
> 
> Ellen: You should be proud.
> 
> Chris: I am. Daisy and I both are. We worked hard to make this what it is.
> 
> Ellen: Directed by Kathryn Bigalow, correct?
> 
> Chris: Yes it was. I can honestly say it was a dream working with her. It is one of those things where you pinch yourself before going to bed each night. Zach is…
> 
> [Chris falters for a moment. The audience is silent. Ellen waits.]
> 
> Chris: Sorry. Uh. Zach was incredibly jealous when he read the script.
> 
> Ellen: He supported you in this?
> 
> Chris: He made me contact my agent to get an audition. I was happy to audition as many times as needed for this project. The characters were so vivid, even just as text. I had to be a part of it.
> 
> Ellen: We can see that dedication. It’s clear you love this character.
> 
> Chris: I do. I do, yeah. Stephen is very relatable. He isn’t your typical guy who knows what he’s doing. He’s in his 40’s, working in an office, and coming home to an empty house, day in day out. It’s someone I think a lot of people can relate to. It’s the choices he makes, where he ends up and how he deals with the situations he is in, that make him fascinating.
> 
> Ellen: I can’t wait to learn more and to see where this goes. We’ll be right back after this short break with more from Chris Pine.
> 
> [commercial break]
> 
> Ellen: And we’re back with Chris Pine. and the release of the trailer for his new film _A Thousand Words_. I can already feel that this film is going to be headline news. But you’ve been in the headlines recently for some other news.
> 
> Chris: You could say that.
> 
> Ellen: Do you want to talk about that?
> 
> Chris: It’s not a matter of wanting to, really. I don’t want to, but the unfortunate thing about being who I am is that it’s going to be spoken about anyway. And I guess to have my [Chris makes air quotes] Kardashian-West moment, it’s actually Chris Quinto-Pin. I recently made the decision to use it professionally.
> 
> [The audience applauds. Ellen nods, smiling.]
> 
> Ellen: That must have been a big decision.
> 
> Chris: Zach has been part of my life for an incredibly long time. Even before we were together, he was one of the most important people I knew. I just felt like it was time to recognise that. My name has legally been Quinto-Pine since we were married three years ago. I’ve kept it Pine professionally because it was easier.
> 
> Ellen: How have you been adjusting?
> 
> Chris: Adjusting to Zach passing? It hasn’t been easy. This is a person I’ve had in my life, in some way, for over twenty years.
> 
> Ellen: Where were you when you received the news?
> 
> [Chris visibly swallows and looks down. It’s a moment before he answers.]
> 
> Chris: I was at home, washing up from dinner. It’s burnt into my memory. I…it wasn’t a very good evening. Imagine that you’re at home, two days away from your husband coming back from a work trip, and you get a phone call from the NYPD. I was honestly expecting him to have been arrested for something.
> 
> [Ellen chuckles.]
> 
> Ellen: That probably would have been preferable.
> 
> Chris: Oh, a thousand times. Pray you never have to experience it.
> 
> [A photo of Chris and Zach appears on the screen behind Ellen. It’s an artistic shot, taken from one of their photoshoots after their wedding, both wearing matching expressions of happiness. Chris turns to look at the picture, as the audience whistles and cheers. They die down. Chris is still looking at the image. Ellen looks towards the audience and back at Chris.]
> 
> Ellen: Chris?
> 
> [Chris jumps a little, turning back around. He dabs hurriedly at his eyes]
> 
> Chris: Sorry, sorry. Was just remembering. It’s a good photo.
> 
> Ellen: Is it hard for you to see photos of the two of you?
> 
> Chris: It’s getting easier. I have an entire wall covered with pictures at home. I guess I’m afraid I’ll forget what he looked like. I like the reminder.
> 
> Ellen: Is that a worry you have? That one day you’ll wake up and you won’t think of him?
> 
> [Chris is silent for a moment before clearing his throat.]
> 
> Chris: I don’t think there has been a day where I haven’t thought of him. But it’s more than that. It’s like the loss of a limb or a sense. He was always there for me, no matter what god-awful time of the night I was calling. He’d help bounce ideas around – I’m going to miss his business skills, that man was lethal in a meeting – he’d give me the support I needed without me asking. I don’t know. I definitely worry that I won’t remember what he smells like anymore.
> 
> [There are a few sniffles from the audience.]
> 
> Ellen: I was at the memorial service. There are a lot of people in this town that will miss him.
> 
> Chris: Yeah. Yeah I’m not going to be the only one. He was well respected on a professional and personal level. 
> 
> Ellen: He was, he was. He achieved a lot in the short amount of time he had with us. We have a short video of some of his work. Do you mind if we show it?
> 
> [Chris shakes his head, and indicates to play the video. It’s a montage of clips from Zach’s body of work, with interviews and candid moments. Chris features in many of them. He eventually has to turn away, glancing up at the ceiling and visibly trying to control his emotions. The video finishes playing and there is silence for a moment before the audience breaks into respectful applause.]
> 
> Chris: I…I’m going to need a minute.
> 
> [Chris stands and strides hurriedly off-stage, pulling at the microphone attached to his shirt]
> 
> Ellen: We’ll be right back with you in a moment.
> 
> [Commercial break.]
> 
> Ellen: Hello and welcome back. If you’re just tuning in, today I’ve been chatting with Chris Quinto-Pine in conjunction with the launch of the trailer to _A Thousand Words_ , the film that is rumoured to take the summer box office storm. Chris is joined on screen by Daisy Ridley who has been kind enough to join us via Facetime. Technology these days, it’s amazing isn’t it?
> 
> [Daisy appears on the screen behind Ellen, waving at the camera. The crowd erupts into cheers and screams.]
> 
> Daisy: Hello, hello, oh wow, there’s so many of you!
> 
> [The audience cheers louder. Daisy laughs, blushing, before making quieting noise.]
> 
> Ellen: Thanks so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to join us at such late notice!
> 
> Daisy: Anytime, anytime! I was doing the incredibly demanding job of _cleaning_ so really, the call couldn’t have come at a better time.
> 
> Ellen: I’m glad I could be of assistance! Now, you play Lucy, a character who is going through her own struggles of where she wants to be and who in life?
> 
> Daisy: That’s correct. She’s an interesting one to play. On the outside, it’s the perfect life – dream job in London, supportive family and friends, fiancé who is gorgeous – no I’m not kidding, have you _seen_ Sam Clafin – but underneath all that, she’s still a kid who doesn’t know her place in the world. It’s refreshing.
> 
> Ellen: The small clips we have seen of you and Chris have been amazing. What was it like working on set together?
> 
> Daisy: Chris has become one of my best friends. Our relationship on set when we weren’t filming reflected that. As actors, we were constantly challenging each other to do better, to give just that bit more. Working with someone as talented as Chris was such a joy.
> 
> Ellen: From what I’ve heard, he speaks just as highly of you.
> 
> Daisy: We grew close. He went through some difficult times as everyone knows. I just made sure he knew he wasn’t alone. I think that comes across in the characters.
> 
> Ellen: There were reports there for a while that you were seeing each other that ended, rather hilariously, in an event where you were threatening paparazzi?
> 
> [Daisy rolls her eyes when the audience laughs]
> 
> Daisy: I know they pretty much do their jobs by getting a reaction out of people, but that was crossing the line. Chris and I have only ever been friends. The fact that I still have to talk about this is ridiculous. I would much rather be talking about our epic on-set karaoke battles. No one ever mentions those.
> 
> [Chris walks back on from offstage.]
> 
> Chris: No, you are not showing them to everyone.
> 
> [The audience cheers wildly, jumping to their feet. Chris’ eyes are red, but he has a smile on his face and is looking relaxed. He hugs Ellen again and waves to Daisy who blows a kiss back, before settling down on his chair again.]
> 
> Ellen: There’s video evidence?
> 
> Chris: No.
> 
> Daisy: Of course there’s video evidence. What do you take me for, a novice?
> 
> [Daisy picks up her phone, making a show of flicking through it. Chris is shaking his head.]
> 
> Daisy: Who do I send this to?
> 
> Chris: No. This is not happening.
> 
> Ellen: submissions@theellenshow.com. Oh this is fantastic!
> 
> Daisy: Okay done. Seriously, just wait. You know he can sing, but you haven’t seen this coming.
> 
> [Chris groans, blushing read and slouching down in his chair.]
> 
> Chris: Why do you hate me? What did I ever do to deserve this?
> 
> Daisy: Do you want the itemised list?
> 
> [Chris looks to the audience for help, gesturing innocently. Ellen grins, delighted at the proceedings]
> 
> Ellen: Okay, here we go.
> 
> [Daisy disappears as a grainy video loads. Chris looks resigned, a mock grouchy look on his face. The opening to I’ll Make a Man Out of You starts playing, followed by Chris sitting at a table before jumping up to belt it out, actions included. The audience goes wild as Chris flushes again, turning bright red, shaking his head. The video finishes playing, and Ellen stands up, followed by the audience. Daisy appears again, laughing and wiping tears from her eyes.]
> 
> Ellen: Chris Quinto-Pine, ladies and gentleman.
> 
> [Chris stands, taking a mock bow. He reaches out and shakes Ellen’s hand.]

\--

It’s another week before the episode airs. Chris is at home with Katie to watch it, curled up on one end of his couch, Noah at his feet. The remains of their takeout are strewn across the coffee table. It was nice to not be alone while watching the show, he could admit to himself. Katie had ignored all his repeated messages of ‘it will be fine’ and turned up on his doorstep with take out and wine. The wine was mostly untouched, but the thought counted.

“You okay, after that?” Katie asks.

“Yeah,” he replies. “It could have been worse, in all honesty.”

Katie nods thoughtfully. “That was more personal than you’ve been in past interviews.”

“I know. I just, I figured they were going to ask. The studio, Focus, basically said I had to do an interview. If I didn’t pick who, they would have picked for me.”

“Smart.”

He rolls his eyes, tipping his head back and glancing over at Kate. “I’m not an idiot.”

"I know. It’s just nice to see you remembering that,” she says, grinning.

“Oh screw you, I’m a capable adult.”

Katie snorts at that.

“Okay, yeah fair point.”

“Seriously though, you’re okay?”

Chris nods, running a hand through his hair. He thinks back on what it was like. It was the first time he spoke publicly about any of it. It took nine months and he still isn’t sure he handled it properly. Did he seem like he wasn’t affected? Too affected? How do people speak publicly about grief?

“I have to do a press tour. It would have come up eventually. A forum with someone I trust is better than a random _blogger_ from the internet. I also, need to get used to it. I’m going to have to speak about him when we do the scholarship screening.”

“That’s going to be a different situation though. You will be choosing what to speak about, rather than having their questions be a surprise.”

“We spoke beforehand. She asked what was off limits,” Chris says. “I didn’t know about the video though. That took me by surprise.”

“I could tell.”

“It…” He paused, trying to find the right words. “It was strange to watch them in that way.” He’d spent nights on YouTube when he probably shouldn’t have, but seeing them in a context where the public was also watching them, it reminded him again that there were others to think about. He went through – is still going through – his grief in a mostly private setting. “I could feel how much everyone in that room cared, and it became overwhelming. I just panicked.”

“You called Daisy?”

“Yeah. She actually suggested the video call. I’m surprised they made it happen so quickly. It wasn’t planned.”

“Hmm. I hope you’re not doing your press alone.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve requested most of our interviews be joint. She doesn’t mind.”

“That’s a good thing.”

They fall silent as they watch the rest of Chris’ interview. Katie can’t help but laugh at the karaoke, shaking her head fondly. It was a good way to end the interview, even though that was now out there forever immortalised. It brought back memories of filming on location and doing anything to avoid thinking too hard about going back to his empty hotel room.

“When does it all start?” Katie asks.

“In about another month. They wanted an interview to go with the trailer, but the main part doesn’t start for a while. Then two months of various interviews here and there, two weeks of intense press tours and advance screenings before the general release.”

“Do you have more work lined up?”

“Yeah. Peter Jackson’s new project just got confirmed. That will still be a year off though. The second Wonder Woman will be the next thing I actually film. They are sorting out the schedule now. I’m easing back into it.”

“He’d be proud of you, Chris,” Katie says.

“Hmm?”

“Zach. He’d be proud of you, if he could see you.”

Chris ducks his head, taking a deep breath. His eyes well up involuntarily. “You think I’d be past crying every time he’s mentioned.” Wiping at his eyes, Chris smiles. “Thanks. I don’t know. He’d probably call me an ass for crying on Ellen too.”

Katie barks out a laugh. “He wouldn’t be Zach if he didn’t.”

* * *

 

**Los Angeles, 2014.**

The message from Chris flashed across his phone at the exact same time the seatbelt sign was switched off. Zach thumbed it open, glancing at it quickly.

_Are you far off?_

He typed a quick a reply while shouldering his carry on.

_Just landed. Not sure what the traffic’s like._

The rest of the passengers were already starting to move down the aisles. He shoved his cap onto his head before ducking into the flow. The flight from New York to LA had dragged, turning five hours into what felt like ten. Anticipation to see Chris again had kept him restless and unable to concentrate. He’d started two novels before giving up on them and going back to staring out the window.

He switched out his regular glasses for his sunglasses when he reached the terminal. Scrolling through his contacts, Zach headed towards the exit, thankful that he was one of the first off the flight. He clicked Joe’s name and brought his phone up to his ear.

Joe answered on the second ring.

“Hey Zach, you here?” Joe’s voice was faint through the speaker.

“Yeah, just off the plane. You outside yet?”

“In the waiting zone. I’ll head over now. From what I can tell, it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Cool. See you soon.”

Zach hung up and pocketed his phone. He readjusted the strap on his bag as he stepped onto the escalator to head down to baggage claim. He hunched his shoulders and leaned against one of the pillars, trying not to draw attention to himself.

It was just his luck that he was recognised right as the bags started to come out.

“Oh my god it’s you! Sam, I told you it was him!”

The girl in front of him looked like she was about to hyperventilate, clutching onto her friend’s arm tightly.

“Holy shit, Jen, calm the fuck down!” her friend replied. “I’m so sorry, she’s a massive Spock fan.”

Zach smiled and straightened, slipping into PR mode. “That’s okay. I’m a massive Spock fan too.”

“Can she have a picture?” Sam asked.

“Of course.”

Jen looked like she was about to cry. Well. If it delayed him a few minutes, it was worth it to make someone’s day. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and smiled towards the camera, then stepped away as soon as it was done.

“I would love to stay and chat, but my lift is probably waiting outside,” Zach said politely.

“Oh yeah, sure, uh, it was nice to meet you, Mr Quinto!”

“Likewise, Jen, Sam.” He nodded at them before turning to grab his bag from the carousel.

He chuckled to himself, hearing their delight as he headed for the exit. He managed to make it out without getting caught again and spotted just as Joe was pulling up. Joe waved at him, and he returned the wave as he ran over to throw his bag in the back before joining Joe up front in the passenger seat.

“What took you so long? I almost had to head back out again,” Joe griped.

“Hey, fuck off,” Zach snapped back, chuckling. “These two girls recognised me at baggage claim.”

“So you decided to be decent for a change, huh?”

“Something like that.”

They finally cleared LAX and headed out into the traffic that always surrounded the airport. The drive up to Silver Lake was unpredictable at the best of times.

“You let Chris know you were coming?” Joe asked suddenly as they pulled off the 101.

Zach nodded. “Yeah.”

“You know, you’re grinning like an idiot right now.”

He spluttered, his cheeks flushing slightly. “What?”

“How long have you two been at it for, then?” Joe asked, chuckling at Zach’s discomfort.

Was it that obvious? They hadn’t really told anyone yet. Chris had gone back to London and Zach had stayed in New York. Kristen knew. He thinks Chris told Katie, but they agreed they would wait until they could meet up again before telling anyone else.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Zach said. He stared straight out the front windscreen, refusing to meet Joe’s gaze.

“Oh, come on. I could always read you. You haven’t stopped looking at your phone this entire drive. You only do this when you’re waiting for someone’s response.”

“You have no idea who I’ve been texting,” Zach said, his voice slightly higher than normal.

“Sure. You just literally gave me the same tone you did when I caught you sneaking in past curfew when you were sixteen.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you finally sorted your shit out. You deserve happiness, Zach,” Joe said.

There was silence for a while. Zach wasn’t sure how to put into words how much Chris meant to him and how he was hoping they weren’t about to screw it up again.

“I just…it’s Chris. He’s worth it.”

\--

Joe dropped him off outside and declined the invitation to come in. Chris’ car was parked in Zach’s driveway. Zach watched Joe drive away before he shouldered his carry on and headed up to the door. He unlocked it and pushed it open. Immediately, he was hit with the overwhelming smell of garlic and something slightly burnt. He frowned, pausing just inside the door.

“Chris?”

“Yep, I’m here!” Chris shouted back.

Zach waited, his hand still on the door. Chris didn’t say anything else, and all he could hear was the sound of the oven door being opened and closed.

“Should I be concerned that my house smells like it’s about to catch on fire?” Zach called.

“Nope!”

He closed the door, tossing his keys onto the table in the foyer. Moving down the hall, Zach froze when he reached the living room.

“What?” he breathed, eyes blinking.

The room that he had left neatly organised looked like a bomb had gone off. There were stacks of paper everywhere, a mess of loose sheets scattered across the floor, and what looked like a stack of scripts on the sofa. There was a laptop open balanced precariously on the coffee table along with what Zach recognised as Chris’ current notebook. There were four mugs that Zach could spot, and what looked to be the crumbs from a sandwich.

“Christopher.”

Chris’ head appeared around the corner of the kitchen door. “Yep?”

Zach merely raised an eyebrow. Chris flushed bright red. There was a streak of what looked like flour on his face and his hair was dishevelled, sticking up in all directions.

“I swear I have a logical explanation,” Chris started. He stepped forward, dusting his hands against his jeans. Pausing in front of Zach, he folded his arms and bit his lip. “It just needs like, ten more minutes.”

“Come here, you idiot.”

Zach reached out and grabbed Chris by his upper arms, tugging him in. He wrapped his arms around Chris, and felt Chris return the gesture, a hand bunching in the shirt at his back. Oh god he had missed this. In reality, it had only been a few months since they had seen each other, but it felt like much longer. The arms around him tightened, and Zach figured Chris must have missed him just as much. The fact that they were standing there together after so long was a little overwhelming. Zach tucked his face into the join of Chris’ neck and shoulder.

They stood like that for a long moment. Chris eventually shifted, drawing back just enough to press a kiss to Zach’s temple.

“Hey,” Chris murmured softly.

“Hi,” Zach responded, just as quietly.

He shifted his hands, reaching up to run his hand through the soft hairs at the back of Chris’ head. Chris pressed another kiss to the side of Zach’s face before skimming his lips across his cheek. 

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

Chris didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead he shifted his weight to press his mouth to Zach’s. Chris was gentle, sighing into the kiss and pulling Zach even closer. Something settled then, and everything felt _right_ , as if until that moment a piece of Zach had been missing. Zach silently vowed to make sure they never went for so long without seeing each other again. He growled, fisting a hand into Chris’ hair, making Chris groan.

“Fuck,” Chris gasped, breathing heavily.

Zach kissed him harder and --

The beeping of the oven timer broke them apart.

“Shit. Shit, shit, _shit,_ ” Chris yelped, leaping back. He turned and ran back into the kitchen.

Zach blinked, his hand hovering in midair from where he had tried to grab Chris on his way past. He heard the oven being opened again, followed by more swearing. He let his arm fall to his side and realised that his carry on was still slung over his shoulder. He dropped it down next to the sofa and headed to the kitchen.

“Can I help?” Zach called.

“No! Still banished.”

“What can I do?”

“I don’t know, make yourself useful and find somewhere for us to sit or something,” Chris called back.

Zach turned and surveyed the room, sighing.

“You owe me, Pine.”

\--

The washing up technically wasn’t done yet, but Zach figured it could wait. Dinner had been delicious and completely worth the disaster zone that his living room and kitchen had been when he got home. Zach could count on one hand the amount of people who had made him Italian as good as his Mom’s. It was a challenge few undertook and Chris performed brilliantly. The flush on Chris’ face when Zach went back for seconds made him feel warm inside.

They spent the evening catching up, choosing to eat out on the back deck and taking advantage of the nice weather while it was around. Even after all this time, Zach was still taken aback at how easy the conversation flowed. It had no strain of trying to think of what to say next, no awkward silences that characterised so many of his past relationships. It was as easy as breathing. The peace of being where he was meant to be was hard to beat.

Most of the plates had been cleared and washed, and Chris was doing the last of the drying when Zach returned with the last of the glasses. He placed them down on the side before stepping close to Chris and wrapping his arms around Chris’ waist. His tucked his head down and pressed a kiss to the exposed skin of his neck.

“Thanks for making dinner,” he said. He felt Chris shift and glanced up to catch the smile on his face.

“Thanks for not crying at the mess I left in the kitchen.”

“If I was worried about that, I would have kicked you out years ago,” Zach said, shrugging. “As it stands…”

“…open invitation, yeah, I know,” Chris finished.

“You don’t though. Anytime you want to make pasta, please do. It’s a bitch, and I don’t like doing it.”

Chris laughed and pulled away. The towel fell to the bench, and Chris leaned back against the counter, folding his arms. He looked up and met Zach’s gaze. Chris blushed, smiling softly and looking away. 

“I just wanted to make it special,” Chris said. “It’s…been a while since I had someone where I could.”

There was quiet between them while Zach took in Chris’ words. It had been awhile for him too. After Jon, there hadn’t been anyone. A few dates, a couple of weeks with one who he thought might have been it, but it always felt like something was missing. When Zach was with anyone else, he could never fully be _there_. Chris had wormed his way so deeply into his heart that no one could replace him.

Zach stepped forward and touched Chris’ arms lightly. When Chris looked up, he took a hold of them more firmly, uncrossing them and pulling Chris too him.

“It was special.” Zach leaned forward and kissed Chris. When he drew back, he smiled softly at Chris’ closed eyes. “Let’s get you into a shower. You look exhausted.”

“Haven’t been sleeping,” Chris replied. He opened his eyes and shrugged. “The usual.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t sleeping?” Zach asked.

“Nothing you could do from New York,” Chris shrugged. “Besides, I have a feeling I won’t have that problem any more.”

They made their way down to Zach’s bedroom, and Zach nudged Chris in the direction of the bathroom. Chris hesitated for a moment, opening his mouth like he was about to say something before thinking better of it. Chris hummed, before turning and disappearing. Zach frowned, puzzled. Chris was acting weird and Zach couldn’t figure out why.

Zach’s suitcase was beside the door from earlier, and he retrieved it to dig through for a fresh pair of underwear and sleep pants. The shower started up in the bathroom and Zach wondered if Chris had brought anything with him. He didn’t remember seeing Chris’ overnight bag in the living room. Turning to the closet, Zach pulled out a spare set of pants and a worn shirt that he was fairly confident used to be Chris’ anyway.

There was a generous amount of steam built up as Zach made his way into the bathroom. He stripped his clothes off quickly, chucking them in the direction of the hamper in the corner. Then he pulled open the door and slipped into the stall. Chris turned at the noise, pushing his hair out of his eyes and blinking.

“Hey,” Zach said as he closed the door.

He reached past Chris to grab the bottle of shampoo off the rack. After squeezing some into one hand, he flicked the lid closed and replaced it.

“Did you want the water? ‘Cause I can move,” Chris said awkwardly, flushing.

Chris seemed nervous about something, and Zach wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t the first shower they had shared together, so Chris’ hesitations did not make sense.

“Christopher. It’s okay,” Zach said, bringing his free hand up to cup Chris’ face. “Let me look after you.”

Chris blinked, a look of desperation and longing flicking across his face. Zach felt the weight in Chris’ gaze, as if Chris never wanted to look away. He didn’t blame him. If he could keep Chris in his gaze at all times, he would. He pressed a kiss to Chris’ forehead and then gently put pressure on his shoulder to make him turn around. Once Chris complied, Zach started to massage the shampoo through Chris’ scalp. Chris’ head dropped forward slightly as Zach’s hands worked it through, forming a thick lather that dripped down onto his back. When he was done, Zach pushed gently again on Chris’ shoulder to guide him under the spray so Zach could rinse the shampoo out.

Zach was methodical in taking care of Chris, unable to pass up the opportunity to run his hands across his skin. The muscles in Chris’ back rippled as Chris shifted, and Zach could not help himself but to lean forward to kiss his shoulder. Tonight felt different to the times in New York. There were boundaries that weren’t yet explored, and they knew they had time to work through all that had been left unsaid. The burning need to have no space between them, to pull Chris into his very soul, was building, like fire was cascading through his veins.

Zach’s mouth moved upwards and pressed an open-mouth kiss below Chris’ earlobe. At the same time, he shifted closer, slotting his hips behind Chris’ and wrapping an arm around his torso. He felt Chris’ sharp inhale and he took the opportunity to nip gently at Chris’ skin.

“Urgh,” Chris said.

“Intelligent,” Zach murmured.

“Fuck you.”

Zach sniggered, taking the opportunity to bite down properly. They didn’t have to go out anywhere in the next week. For once, Zach didn’t care about what visible marks he left.

“Zach…” Chris got out eventually, voice strained. “…Zach. I need…I _need_ …”

“ _Words_ , Christopher,” Zach replied.

“I need you. More. Whatever.”

Chris pulled away from his embrace, turning and shoving Zach up against the wall. It was obvious Chris was done being patient. He attacked Zach with determination, their teeth knocking together in the rush. Zach scrambled for purchase, slipping slightly and grabbing Chris’ waist to steady himself. Pushing into Zach’s space, Chris forced him to widen his stance, and Zach’s head knocked back against the wall in the process.

“Shit, ow –” Zach broke off, the rest of his sentence swallowed up by Chris biting his lower lip and licking into his mouth.

Fuck. Zach wasn’t about to complain. He could feel Chris’ erection pressing into his lower belly; they both needed this, needed it more than breathing. The months of schedules not lining up, of missed phone calls and stolen moments had all built up. He loved Chris more in this moment than he had thought was possible.

Zach reached between their bodies, taking them both in hand. Chris’ hips jerked forward, and the friction felt incredible. Zach moved his hand, shifting to get a better grip, knowing that he wasn’t going to last long. They would have time for slow later.

“Fuck, Zach, I’m not going to last,” Chris panted, shifting a hand to fist in Zach’s hair.

“Keep talking,” Zach ordered, needing to hear Chris’ voice.

“Shit, right. Okay,” Chris said, voice breaking. “What do you want me to talk about?”

“I don’t care. Quote something. Ramble, just _don’t stop talking_.”

There was a pause.

“I would not deny you, but by this…this good day, shit,” Chris started. He took a deep breath. “I yield upon great per-persuasion. _Yes_ , that’s good.”

Zach glanced up at Chris’ face and then could not look away. Chris had his eyes closed, the expression on his face a mix of concentration and pleasure. His neck was flushed and his forehead was damp with a mixture of sweat and steam. 

“ _Christopher_ ,” Zach breathed.

At the sound of his voice, Chris’ eyes flicked open and met Zach’s. The intensity behind those blue eyes was blistering.

“…and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption,” Chris finished, breath hitching.

Zach’s hand tightened involuntarily. Chris swore, hips jerking forward as he came, come splattering across Zach’s hand and stomach. That was all it took for Zach to follow suit, head dropping forward to rest on Chris’ shoulder.

It was still, the sound of the still running water and their panting breaths the only sounds filling the room. Eventually, he lifted his head.

“Only you, Pine. Only you would quote Shakespeare at me.”

\--

They tumbled into bed not too long after, both too exhausted to consider staying up any later. A lump under the covers was all that Zach could see when he returned after locking up and switching the lights off. Crawling into bed, Zach nudged Chris.

“You still alive?”

Chris pulled the covers down and rolled over to face Zach. “Yeah, just.”

“Good.”

Pulling the covers back over them, Zach shifted to reach an arm out and pulled Chris in close. They settled, comfortable in each other’s presence. Typically, Zach didn’t sleep wrapped around another person. He knew that they would probably end up splayed apart come morning, the king size bed giving them enough room to do so easily, but he wanted to hold Chris close. There was a comfort in having him near, warmth that was felt more inside than on his skin.

“I’m glad that you’re here, Zach,” Chris murmured into the darkness, his hand finding Zach’s where it was resting on Chris’ chest and linking their fingers together. “I know…I don’t really say it…but I really am glad. Thanks for…letting me be here. After I was such an _idiot_ for so long.”

Shifting closer, Zach leaned forward to press a kiss to the exposed skin at the back of Chris’ neck.

“You are an idiot. But I’ve learned to expect that over the years,” Zach teased softly. “Besides, you weren’t the only one being an idiot.”

“No, no it was definitely me. I should have told you years ago. So much wasted time.”

“We wouldn’t be who we are, or be where we are, if we didn’t go through it.”

“I know,” Chris replied. “You gotta come to Sunday roast tomorrow. Mom’s asking.”

“She knows?” Zach asked. To be honest, he wasn’t surprised. Chris’ family had always been close.

“About us? Yeah. She just asked why it didn’t happen sooner.”

Chris fell silent after that, his breath lengthening. If Zach listened hard enough, he could hear the traffic in the distance. It was different to New York. There was traffic there at all hours of the night, and no matter how well the real estate agents said the soundproofing was, it still filtered through. The sound of Chris’ breathing was preferable. If Zach had his way, this would be the sound he heard every night falling asleep. He knew it wasn’t possible. They both had work, which meant living apart was necessary. Moments like these would need to be treasured.

“Zach,” Chris mumbled as he turned, hand fumbling until it found Zach’s face.

Chris’ eyes were still closed, and he was clearly at that place between awake and asleep. Zach smiled softly, ducking to press a kiss to Chris’ forehead.

“Yes?”

“Love you. Had to…” Chris yawned. “Had to make sure you knew.”

Zach froze, blinking.

Chris’ hand slipped from Zach’s face as he rolled back over.

It was a phrase Zach had been waiting to hear for a long time. All the times he had imagined it, all the scenarios he had envisioned, didn’t come close to the depth of feeling he had in that moment. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from Chris’ sleeping form, from the slow rise and fall of Chris’ chest. Chris, who slept there unaware of the fact with two simple words he’s redefined Zach’s understanding of their relationship. That the overwhelming feeling of _relief_ coursing through Zach’s body brought with it the realisation that despite everything that’s happened since Chris turned up on his doorstep in New York, he still had somehow been expecting Chris to come to his senses and leave. That Chris would realise what being with Zach meant and would decide it wasn’t worth it.

Zach reached a hand out tentatively and lightly brushed Chris’ hair back from his face. Chris loved him. He was powerless to stop the grin that spread across his face. A weight that Zach didn’t know he had been carrying lifted from his chest.

“I love you too, Christopher.”

* * *

 

**A Year After.**

Chris stands in the middle of the bedroom, staring without seeing at the wall in front of him. Over the last year, it’s amassed a collection of photos, sketches, and posters, all somehow related to Zach. It’s been a source of comfort and constant reminder, a living testament to everything that has happened. It’s been a year and two weeks and Chris isn’t too sure how he is still here, still continuing. A week ago he didn’t want to continue. He was ready to give up completely, despite the progress he made. How has he managed to get through a year?

The first public screening of _A Thousand Years_ is happening tonight. It is being hosted at USC and will be a mix of students, public, and press. He is also launching the scholarship program tonight, and the amount of anxiety he is feeling makes him want to lock the door and hide. But both Katie and his assistant have the security codes and a key to his house, a fact he is pissed off about. Maybe he should revoke their spare key privileges. Becoming a hermit is still a better option than what he’s facing.

He sighs, rolling his shoulders to release the built up tension. Turning away from the wall, he walks into the open closet. The suit he picked for tonight is hanging there innocently on the rack. It is one Zach would have loved. Double breasted jacket in a textured blue fabric, bow tie to match. He strokes a hand over the fabric before picking it up and turning to the drawers to grab fresh underwear. He’s left getting organised until almost too late and knows it’s going to be a bit of a rush. Katie will be coming around in less than an hour, and the studio car is due not long after her.

He rushes through a shower, then takes time to tame his hair as much as possible. It is on the slightly too long side, making it more difficult than normal. He barely finishes before he hears the doorbell. Noah starts going off, the sound of his paws scuttling down the corridor loud in the afternoon quiet.

“Noah!” Chris shouts, putting down the comb he was using and heading to the door.

Reaching down, he grabs Noah’s collar before unlocking the door. He pauses before opening. “You going to be okay buddy? It’s just Katie. You know Katie.”

He pulls it open slowly, letting go of Noah but watching him carefully. As expected, Katie is waiting on the other side.

“Hey,” Chris says, smiling.

“Hey yourself,” Katie replies, stepping in to give Chris a hug.

Chris wraps his arms around her, holding tight.

“How are you doing?” she asks softly.

Chris huffs a laugh. “Ahh, it’s better that I don’t answer that. Better than I was.”

“We can work with that.”

They separate, Chris standing back to let her inside, then closing the door behind them.

“That sounds ominous,” he says, rolling his eyes as he heads back to the bedroom to collect his jacket and shoes.

“Well, to be fair, considering the last week, I expected a catatonic wreck that I was going to need to reverse psychology into actually going tonight,” Katie calls.

Chris snorts. “You’ll still probably need to do that. I still haven’t decided if I’m getting into the car, let alone out of it.”

“Like I said, we can work with that.”

\--

The gathering of students and press lined up outside the parkway is staggering. They are dropping Chris and Daisy off as close as they can to the USC Norris Cinema, but there is still a distance they will have to walk. It is longer than some of the red carpets he has gone down in his time.

“I can’t do this,” Chris says, turning to Katie as they pull up.

“Yes you can, Chrissy. You can do this.”

“Nope. I can’t. This was a bad idea,” Chris shot back, shaking his head. His hands are shaking, and he quickly balls them into fists, hoping she doesn’t notice. “It’s too soon. Too close to…when it happened. I can’t.”

“Chris. I’m here; your family is here, your friends. We’re here for you. You’re not going to be alone. It’s a short walk, and then you’ll be inside. Remember why you are doing this and what it’s for.”

Chris sinks down into the seat, closing his eyes. Zach. Just keep thinking of Zach. He nods, moving to open the door and step out before he can change his mind.

The stretch of footpath that he has to make his way down passes in a blur, and he’s inside before he even realises. Logically, he can trace back the 20 minute journey, knows that he stopped and chatted, signed posters, took selfies, but none of it really registered. He had a single-minded focus of making it inside without breaking down.

Kathryn finds him backstage, hovering out of sight.

“How is the film?” he asks, looking for a distraction.

“It’s received good reviews in the few test screenings we’ve done,” Kathryn replies, watching Chris intently.

“Good, good. That’s good.”

“You just said good three times,” she observes.

“Did I? Huh.”

“Chris.”

“Yup?” he replies, snapping his head up.

“Are you going to come sit down? Everyone is in, we’re just waiting for you.”

He shakes his head. “I’m going to stay here."

Kathryn sighs. “Katie said you would say that. Don’t make me get Daisy back here.”

“Do I have to?”

She merely raises an eyebrow.

“Oh fine, fine,” Chris huffs, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I’ll come sit.

It’s a full theatre and everyone breaks into applause as Chris enters after Kathryn. He waves, smiling, pausing at the centre in front of the stage. Cameras flash as he stands there. Beckoning to Daisy to join him, Chris smiles, playing it up for the audience. It actually takes away some of his anxiety. This is familiar, calming in a way. Even though there’s so much attention, it’s easy to forget everything else and just focus on the now. Eventually it settles down, and they take their seats. The house lights dim, and all too soon, the Focus Features logo appears on screen.

As soon as the credits start rolling, Chris takes the opportunity to slip from his chair and out the side door, heading backstage. He hears the dim applause erupt and manages to make it side stage as the lectern is moved on. This is it. All that he has worked for the last few months is about to be shared. Feelings of expectation and relief are twined together, a weird dichotomy that Chris isn’t sure he isn’t making up. Eventually, he receives his cue and steps forward, praying that none of his nerves show as he makes his way to the lectern.

Chris unfolds the few pages he tore from his notebook. He meant to type it up properly but had run out of time. It’s probably better this way, more familiar. It’s been a long time since he has stood in front of a room of people and delivered a speech without prompting. Clearing his throat, he looks up into the sea of faces.

“Thank you so much for coming out tonight. As you know, we are here for the first screening of _A Thousand Words_ prior to its official premier next week. I hope you enjoyed it as much as Daisy and I enjoyed working on it.” He pauses; nodding towards where he knows Daisy is in the audience. “Kathryn brought together an incredible team of people that I have been honoured to work with through this project. It’s been over two years since I first read the script, and I can truly say I am proud of what we presented tonight.”

Chris takes a deep breath. The lights make it difficult – but not impossible – to distinguish members of the audience. The first two rows on the left hand side are filled with his friends and family. Margo is there, Katie, Joe, his mom and dad. Daisy sits with Zoe and Karl, and he can just make out Jon sitting nearby with Kristen. They are all there to support him tonight.

“As you all know, nearly a year ago I went through a day that I can quite accurately describe as…the worst day of my life,” Chris says, chuckling to break the tension that he can feel in the room. “Zach was a stabilising part of my life in some form for over fifteen years. Learning to operate without his presence has been an on-going challenge. There are still days where I falter. But there are now also good days, days where I can think back on the memories and smile.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the theatre. No one moves a muscle, all hanging onto Chris’ words. He shifts his pages, pulling out the next one. The anxiety from earlier is back, and Chris isn’t sure how he is going to get through all of this. Lifting a hand, he goes to run it through his hair before he forces himself to lower his hand again. He can do this.

“Zach…Zach worked hard his entire life, and never gave up an opportunity. He made calculated risks and took leaps of faith. If there is one thing that everyone could take away from his life, it is living in the moment and experiencing it to the fullest. It is something that I am trying to remember to do in my own life. Zach would not want me to shut down, to turn away from my friends and family. He would want me to continue to work, to continue to strive for opportunity.”

Chris thinks he sees Zoe handing Margo tissues and has to glance away. Not now. He can’t lose himself now. He swallows, knowing that whatever he does, there’s no way he will be able to mask the emotion in his voice.

“I would like to talk to all of you about opportunity. When someone you are close to passes on, you can’t help but reflect on their life and on yours. It makes you value what you do have and really look at how you spend your time. A few months ago I was left with the question of what to do with Zach’s estate. Financially, I had no use for it. Working in Hollywood has made sure that I am going to be okay in that respect. Margo and Joe also didn’t want to take what Zach left to them. It wasn’t until a conversation with Joe that I realised that I was in a position to honour Zach in a way that could make a difference. The Zachary Quinto Emerging Talent scholarship fund is the culmination of this realisation. Two scholarships will be awarded annually to one student in both the Cinematic and Dramatic Arts programs at the University of Southern California who would unable to attend due to financial, geographical, or other disadvantages. The program is a fully recognised scholarship fund that can accept donations to ensure that it runs beyond the current ten-year plan. It will be available for applications starting tomorrow, when more information will also be place on the USC website.”

Excited murmurs ripple through the hall. The looks of shock on so many are worth having kept this a secret for the last three months. Outside of his immediate family and a few key people at the university and Focus, no one knew what Chris had done.

“The University of Southern California offers unique opportunities associated with its location in Los Angeles,” Chris says, drawing the attention of the room back. “I have also signed on as the mentor for both recipients, and we are in talks to bring on more industry professionals in future years. I truly believe that this is a program that Zach would smile down on and be proud of.”

“Life is meant to be lived and experienced. Intention has the power to change the landscape of our society, and I feel that it is time to do my part to ensure that someone else gets their chance. Thank you for your support tonight, your support of this film, and to all the countless messages of love and support I received over the last year. Every kind word has made this road that tiny bit easier. Thank you.”

The applause is immediate and overwhelming. Slowly, the room comes to its feet, a few of the students letting lose whoops and cheers. Chris is taken aback, blinking. He grips the edges of the lectern tightly before making himself take a deep breath and relax. He glances down and away across the stage.

He does a double take, straightening to stare across at the darkness off stage. He knows it’s a trick of the light, but for a second he thinks he can see Zach standing there, hands in his coat pockets, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. He can see the look of pride on Zach’s face, the one where he just knows Zach is telling everyone that he’s Chris’ husband, because he needs to make sure everyone knows. Chris stares, the noise from the hall eventually fading into nothing at the intensity of his gaze.

_I am proud, Christopher_.

Chris blinks, dispelling the illusion as a stagehand walks through his line of sight. He turns back to the audience and smiles once more before folding up his speech and heading offstage in the opposite direction.

He will see Zach again. It won’t be soon, and he doesn’t know what the future has in store. But it’s okay. Zach is there. He has always been there and always will be.

“Where should we go next?” Chris whispers as he heads back out into the hall, to the smiling faces of his friends and family waiting to welcome him back with open arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. This has been an ongoing work for the last six months of my life, and I am glad I'm finally being able to share it with you. If you're keen on seeing anything more, I post up ficlets semi-regularly on my [tumblr](http://captainkatieb.tumblr.com) and I'm always happy to chat.
> 
>  
> 
> **Playlist:**  
>  Flightless Bird, American Mouth – Iron & Wine  
> One Call Away – Charlie Puth  
> Hello – Adele  
> Flashlight – Jesse J  
> Thinking Out Loud – Boyce Avenue  
> I See Fire – Jasmine Thompson  
> Bring it Back – Shawn Mendes  
> Can’t Help Falling in Love – Haley Reinhart  
> Almost Lover – A Fine Frenzy  
> Jar of Hearts – Christina Perri  
> I’m a Mess – Ed Sheeran  
> Read All About It, Pt III – Emeli Sande  
> Golden – Ruth B  
> The Freshman – Jay Brannan  
> What If You – Joshua Radin  
> Each Coming Night – Iron & Wine  
> Falling in love at a coffee shop – landon pigg  
> A Thousand Years – Christina Perri  
> Adagio for Violin, Strings, and Organ in G Minor – Remo Giazatto


End file.
